


The Crimson Gala

by Dara999



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Other, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2020-01-20 18:12:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18530431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dara999/pseuds/Dara999
Summary: The Gala. A yearly event that struck fear into the hearts of the townsfolk. A handful of people are randomly selected to be taken to the lair of their dictators to ensure their prosperous lifestyles; as is how it's been for generations. (I'm messing around with the skins for this. Tell me what you see/think)





	1. Welcome to the Gala

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Artsy’s art from tumblr/Instagram!

* * *

Of course; Willow was chosen. The mayor’s son had made unwanted advancements and she told him to fuck off, multiple times. Then one of the town’s food stores burnt down. Willow had... a history. Accidents when she was younger; still trying to understand her place in the world and the desires she had in regards to fire. She caused a few fires, nothing too major. No one died. Not in her fires anyway. But she was branded as a pyromaniac no matter how much control she had over herself now. The blame for the massive loss was pinned upon her, silence falling upon all those she had previously trusted. Eye contact was refused when she pleaded to her innocence, heads shook disappointingly. But the _benevolent_ mayor forgave her; said that they all made mistakes. Then his damned son pushed himself on her again; pig-faced and spoilt. She owed him apparently, as his father was so lenient to her.

She broke his nose.

Now she was dressed up like a slut and standing in a ballroom, gathering in front of a set of chairs. She recognised other people from her town; but there were so many other people here. How many of them were like her? How many were here to be sacrificed for the ‘ _good of their people_ ’? Surely everyone standing couldn’t be one of those things, nor could they all be here to die. A handful of people walked in; lavishly dressed in black, red and gold. **Those** must be them. That meant everyone else was cattle? An older looking man stood up front, a smile showing off large fangs.

“Ladies and gentlemen, friends and esteemed... _guests_. Welcome to this year’s gala! I trust this will be just as enjoyable as the ones before. Please; dine, drink and be merry! Let the festivities commence and allow this year be as prosperous as the last.” A band begun playing, conversation increasing in volume.

Willow’s heart was in her throat; she expected it to be a bloodbath. Yet here she was, standing in a skimpy dress, people seemingly enjoying themselves. Maybe she could sneak away? Was this even the slaughter she imagined? Slowly she made her way over to a large table, picking up a glass full of some kind of red liquid. Was this blood?

“It’s wine sweetheart. An old vintage. Priceless.” She turned to meet the gaze of a woman, tall and elegantly dressed in flowing black. She flashed a sharp smile, causing Willow to swallow a lump in her throat. “Don’t be shy, you can have anything you want on the table.” Long slender nails plucked an item form the table, offering it to Willow. “Foie gras. A French dish.” Willow took it and hesitantly put it in her mouth. It was creamy, savoury, salty, the crunch of the cracker changing the texture. She’d never had something so nice, never had the money to have something so nice.

“What is it?” Maybe these creatures weren’t as bloodthirsty as the rumours said.

“Liver.” Her heart dropped, stomach turning in on itself. The countess must have seen her face drop as she let out a chuckle.

“Duck liver. Not human.” Of course it was. Why would it have been human?

A scream sounded out, a man sprinting at full speed across the ballroom. “The first runner!” The air beside Willow moved and the woman was gone. In moments the countess had the man’s head in her hand, lifting him off the ground. He cried and flailed, screaming obscenities at his captor. “I got him!” A small round of applause came from various members of the crowd. “Who would like the honours? Miss Wicker?” An elderly woman shook her head. “How about you Wilson?”

“You caught him Charlotte, you have the honours.” She gave a light giggle before bringing her hand back, plunging it into the man’s chest with a sickening crack. As she pulled her hand back out, blood sprayed over her dress and with pride she held his still beating heart in her hand for all to see.

“All those who attempt to escape will be part of the hunt later this evening. Allow this to be a warning.” Charlie dropped the body, letting it hit the ground with a wet thump. As she stepped away, biting into the heart, the corpse was swarmed. Blood pooled on the ground as teeth tore into flesh ravenously. Willow’s own blood ran cold. A few people screamed, others sobbing. She swore people were being dragged away.

She was going to **die** here.

The food. The drinks. The music. The dancing. It was all a façade. They really were just cattle for slaughter.

~~~~~

Willow spent as much time as possible making herself as small as possible. She was frightened and exposed, silky white adorning her loosely. She wanted to scream, to rip out the crimson flowers in her hair and on her dress. To grab a knife and go down fighting! But… the image of that woman with the heart in her hands was too much for her. The trouble makers were taken away for ‘the hunt’. She didn’t want to be a part of that.

Willow downed glasses of wine, feeling the heat of the alcohol inside her. She wished that this would just be over and done with, maybe she should just off herself to save her dignity. All she could do was look back and forth, avoiding those who approached her. During this glance around she noticed a pair hiding behind one of the columns in the ballroom’s far corner. They were… really going at it. Hands running through hair, under clothing and faces pressed together. It was kind of mesmerising to watch. Two people totally shut out from those around them, just focused on the other.

“Would you please join me for a dance miss?” Startled, Willow snapped her attention to the man in front of her. Shit. She got distracted by the dumb people making out. They extended an arm out, white fills billowing from their attire. Willow stuttered, searching for a reason to decline.

“I-I uh… I’m not really much of a dancer. S-sorry.”

“Nonsense. Just allow me to lead, I’ll teach you.” The ravenette flashed a smile, the tips of fangs peaking out from under his lips. Oh fuck. He was one of them. Panic started to flood through her system. He was talking her hand, pulling her away from the edge of the room. She felt vulnerable, it didn’t help that she was basically wearing glorified bedsheet. Willow could feel her limbs shake, he wouldn’t kill her for no reason would he? Maybe he would. She had no idea.

 

Wilson had been watching the woman for a while now. Watching her weave in and out of the crowd, a lacy garter flashing every now and then. It would be a lie if he said he wasn’t attracted to her, but it wasn’t the first time a beautiful person had come to the gala. Nevertheless, he _wanted_ her.

“Have your eyes on that one Higgsbury?” Maxwell smirked, coming into Wilson’s peripheral.

“I do indeed.”

“She seems flighty. I think you’re going to have to wait until the hunt for her.”

“I don’t think she’s a runner.”

“We’ll see.” Maxwell brought a glass to his lips, sipping the dark liquid inside it.

Wilson saw his chance, she was distracted by a promiscuous pair in the corner. He strode over, daring not to make a sound until he was right next to her. She seemed so jumpy. Maybe she would run. That would be a shame; he was looking forward to playing with her.

The music was light, easy to move to. He took her hand in his, placing his other hand on her waist. He guided her, smirking as her face become flushed, avoiding eye contact. They flew across the floor. Her feet were clumsy at first but she eventually got into the swing of it.

“Wilson.” Amber eyes met his own, blinking in confusion. “My name. Wilson P Higgsbury.”

“I… Uh… Willow… just Willow.” He hummed thoughtfully. This all felt so surreal to Willow. No one came back from the gala. What came next? How long until the façade stopped and the killing started.

“Did you know that Willow trees symbolise immortality in Chinese culture?” His prey was silent, furrowing its brow at him.

“They’re a symbol of grief here.”

“True. They’re also supposed to be the trees witches use to craft with.”

“Is that right?”

“Indeed.” The music began to fade, swiftly jumping into the next piece. Something slower, closer to a waltz. Wilson moved fluidly, giving her a twirl. “You know. For a mere mortal, you are gorgeous.” Heat burned in Willow’s cheeks.

“Do you say that to every meal?” He let out a hearty chuckle, teeth in full view. All willow could see was those same teeth tearing into her skin, her blood staining his ivory suit.

“Not at all. Just you~” Just when Willow thought it was impossible to feel any more exposed than she already was, suddenly she was aware of every bare part of her. As they moved a breeze touched her thigh, her chest. She could feel her heart pound in her ears. “Don’t run on me Miss Willow. I’d hate for you to be caught by someone other than myself in the hunt.” Wilson felt her freeze. **_Her heart was racing. Blood vessels pulsating._** Bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed it softly. “Thank you for the dances Miss Willow. You picked it up quite fast. I’ll see you later this evening.” With that he left her, melding back into the crowd of ghouls and prey alike. Willow tried to slow her breathing, moving back to the hidden edges of the room.


	2. The Hunt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to my hoe Artsy. <3

* * *

At the stroke of midnight, the conversation in the room ceased like a dying flame. Everybody’s attention turned to the vampires sitting in chairs, overseeing all. Wilson scanned for his prey from his place beside the king. She stood under a large stained glass window. Still here. Good girl~ He noticed that every time she adjusted the garments she wore to better hide her chest, the more exposed her legs became. It was… sort of adorable, the way she tried to be modest.

From what Willow could tell there were four in charge. The woman who slaughtered the man at the beginning of the night, Wilson and two elders. It was the male elder who seemed to be head-honcho, calling the shots and making the announcements.

“Ladies and gentlemen, consider the beginning of the festivities over. Now we will gather in the courtyard. The prey is being released as we speak. This year it is Wickerbottom’s turn to choose which providence will be allowed to hunt.” He gave a small bow, gesturing for the elder woman beside him to take the floor. The feathers of her collar moved as she stood, giving a cold stare to everyone in-front of her.

“After much consideration I have decided to allow my apprentice, Charlotte, to choose.” She turned to the woman next to her, giving a warm smile. “Go ahead dear.” She sprung up, batting her eyelashes excitedly.

“Thank you Wickerbottom! Oh my! Choices choices! This is such an honour.” Her hands came together, creating a statuesque stance one might find in a church. “I believe perhaps it’s best if we allow Maxwell’s providence’s to hunt tonight. As a valued member of our hierarchy and a highly profitable catchment, it seems the best choice.”

“Very well. Thank you Charlie. If everyone could move to the balconies.” The masses started moving. Maybe Willow could use this as a chance to slip away? At first she followed the crowd, checking down hallways and praying for an open door.

Praise whatever god was listening because there was one!

Willow ducked in, closing her eyes and pressing herself against the wall until the sounds of footsteps lessened. With shaky breaths she begun to search the room. A weapon? Anything! The windows opened but they were two floors up. She could probably make it… What about the curtains? Maybe she could abseil out the window.

 ~~~~~

Wilson kept his eyes on his target, watching as she ducked into a side room. What was the cheeky minx planning? Taking the form of a bat he left the building out of a window in the hall and then let himself into the room Willow was in, she had left the window open after all. She was yanking the curtains off of their rungs, tying them together with big knots. Wilson would have laughed from his hiding spot on the bookshelf if it weren’t going to give away his position. Allowing himself to fall, he took his normal form, back in the white attire he had put on earlier this night.

“Going somewhere?” The scream that left her lips was intoxicating. The fear in her eyes… _wonderful_. “You’re not planning on running I hope. Just because the hunt is about to start doesn’t mean we can’t add another contender.”

Where did he come from?! Adrenaline was thundering through her veins. It was just the one, surely she could take one vampire.

Wilson watched her eyes dart around the room. She lunged for something, bringing it towards him. He was quicker however. The attack was easily dodged and the object taken from her. A candlestick? She expected to hurt him with that? He gripped her wrist until he could see her wince, smirking at her. “My, my Miss Willow. I’m starting to think you might be trouble.”

“I-I’m sorry! Please! I-I-I-” Tears began to stream from her eyes as he pressed his finger against her lips.

“It’ll be our little secret. Now why don’t you come with me, hmm?” Willow managed to nod, Wilson taking her out of the room, through halls and up a flight of stairs. Leading her further, until they arrived at some kind of study room. A fireplace caught her attention, the soothing crackle of the flames bringing her at least a little comfort. That didn’t last long however as she was brought to stop at a balcony, the other head vampires already waiting.

“I almost started without you Higgsbury.”

“I only took a moment Maxwell. You’ll get your fill, don’t be impatient.” The woman from the beginning of the night was there. They glanced across the balcony, smiling at Willow.

“Did you enjoy the food and such? Sorry I had to leave our little conversation before. The first runner is a bit of an event at the gala~” A lump was forming in Willow’s throat as the images flashed through her mind again, the screaming… She looked out to the lawn beneath the balcony, hoping to distract herself.

“I see she didn’t run then Higgsbury.”

“No no, she’s a brave little thing.” Claws appeared in her face causing her to flinch, knuckles going white from gripping the railing of the balcony so tightly.

Wilson brushed stray hairs from her face, lightly grazing her forehead with his nails. Brave little thing… perhaps not as much as he though, although she did try to assault him. If that wasn’t brave he wasn’t sure what would be. He’d see how far he could push her. “Aren’t you Willow?” Silence. Maxwell scoffed.

“I better get this hunt started.” Large black, leathery wings emerged from underneath the man’s cloak, causing Willow to jump and stare. Where the hell was he hiding those?! “When you’re ready Charlie.” The younger woman sneered, a grin still on her face.

“Of course Maxy.” Wings of her own emerged as she turned to face a gathering of people (although they weren’t really people, they were monsters, weren’t they?). “Let the hunt begin!” The fire starter had to shield her eyes as both parties beat their wings. As if a switch had been flipped, multiple bodies took to the sky, all manor of screeching and snarling echoing across the courtyard. First blood was drawn, a shrill scream piercing the night. It was like watching a nightmare from afar, shapes writing and sounds assaulting her ears. Willow pushed against the railing, against the body behind her, moving into the study. Her breaths were shallow, tears in her eyes. There was still screaming. She wanted it to stop.

The fireplace called to her, drawing her to kneel in front of it. She focused on the popping of the wood, the roaring of the flames. That’s all that mattered. Maybe she could let the fire take her… escape this place… Willow outstretched her hand, wincing at the heat of the flames. She couldn’t back away now. A hand grabbed her wrist, pulling it out of the fire’s reach. Her eyes met yellow ones, stern and cold.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She needed to leave. The door. She prayed it wasn’t locked.

“Let go of me!” Pulling her hand away from him, Willow grabbed one of the logs from the fireplace, throwing it at him. Her hand shook from the adrenaline coursing through her, tears making their way down her face.

Wilson didn’t expect a burning log to be thrown at him, especially not by a mortal. The fabric of his suit caught alight. His eyes widened. He was on fire! The heir shed everything above his waist, allowing his wings to open, putting out the flames with one strong flap. This woman! Speaking of which, she was throwing open the door; he better grab them before someone else got their teeth into her. Wilson grabbed the fleeing woman’s arm pulling her back into the room. Her hand was red and inflamed, surely a minor burn. That would need to be attended to.

“I SAID LET GO!” Without thinking Willow sunk her teeth into Wilson’s hand. He let her wrist go and instead wrapped his wings around her, holding her firmly against his chest with a laugh.

“You’ve got a fire within you hmm?”

“FUCK YOU. LET ME GO OR KILL ME. I CAN’T TAKE THIS!”

“Wilson, stop playing with your food. Do as she says, the shouting is disturbing me from watching the hunt.”

“Apologies Miss Wickerbottom. I’ll take matters elsewhere.”

~~~~~

Wilson took Willow back into the halls, still holding her against his chest. Willow tried to fight against the leathery prison but found herself well and truly stuck. Besides, her hand was really burning now, it was painful. Not the first burn she’d had though, it wasn’t too bad. She just had to wait it out.

Suddenly the wings surrounding her vanished, folding back to where they belonged. Willow glared, cradling her hand. “Sit.”

“Fuck you!” Rolling his eyes, Wilson pushed her to sit on the foot of his bed. He then grabbed her hand and held something against it. It was cool and refreshing in her hand. He slowly took his hand away, leaving a blue stone. She blinked. What? Why?

“Quite a bold move Miss Willow. You must remember I’m no mere mortal however, your outbursts are no threat to me. In fact all you’ve done is ruin a nice suit!”

“Bite me!” The grin he gave sent shivers down her spine. He lent closer, delivering his response in a low tone.

“Are you sure those are the words you want to go with?~” God damn it, why did she say that?! Averting her eyes she stared at the gemstone in her hand. How was it so cold?

This was delightful. Wilson swore he felt his heart actually beat. He was glad he chose this one; it had provided a thrill that he hadn’t felt in so long. She had actually bit him. Him! The bloodsucker! So bravely she told him off and made quips. If this went well he might keep her around a little longer…

 

There was silence for a few moments, Willow still refusing to meet Wilson’s gaze. He wondered how long she would ignore him as he stood across from her.

“Am I going to die?”

“From that burn? Doubtful.” Wilson chuckled as she shot him an annoyed look.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“As far as I’m concerned you’re not going to die anytime soon.”

“Why are you keeping me here then?”

“No, no. You asked a question. My turn.”

“I wasn’t aware we were taking turns…”

“Well we are~” Why did his smirk irk her so much? “Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing here? Hmm?”

“It’s random, as per your request.”

“Oh please. I know that the ‘voting’ system you mortals are supposed to have in place doesn’t work. Why are you here?”

“I was framed…” Her face seemed to soften, indicating that she was indeed telling the truth, that and her steady pulse.

“For what?”

“Oh no. It’s my turn.” Wilson smiled as she shot him a smirk. Smart little thing.

“Right you are miss. Go ahead.”

“What’s happens to the rest of us? The ones not in the hunt?”

“Depends on the person who scoops you up.”

“What do you mean?” Wilson waggled his finger in front of her.

“What were you framed for?”

“Burning an important building down.”

“Are you sure you were framed? You did just throw a burning log at me.” The smile he gave brought heat to her cheeks. He sorta had a point.

“I also punched the mayor’s son.” That smile of his only widened as he closed the space between them, becoming uncomfortably close.

“Now I’m intrigued. Why would you do that?”

“Because he wouldn’t listen when I said I didn’t want to fuck him…”

“You’ve got spunk. Not many women have that.” Outstretching his wings, Wilson lent closer yet, hands on either side of her. “You think I could succeed where this chap failed?” Willow was flabbergasted. Did he just? Really? She couldn’t help look him up and down. In comparison he was much more attractive, if she had to she mightn’t be opposed. But she hardly knew him! Not only that but **he was a vampire.**

“E-excuse you?!”

“Well I just keep seeing the flush in your cheeks, feeling your accelerated heart rate.”

“People are dying! Of course my heart is beating! I watched someone’s heart be ripped from their chest! I’m scared!”

“Tsk tsk.” He brought his wings to enclose the both of them, his hands resting on her waist. “You’re safe with me Miss Willow. You see, I like you, I’d like to keep you alive. Another one of us mightn’t be so kind.”

Willow’s breath hitched in her throat. His eyes were soft, half laden. Voice smooth. (Would it be so bad? What if that what was keeping her alive?) No, no, no. This had to be one of those vampire tricks. They could hypnotise you, couldn’t they?

“G-get out of my head!” He just laughed. _Bastard_.

“I have no idea what you mean Miss Willow.” He gave the bows on her shoulders a gentle tug, not meaning to cause the fabric hiding her mid-section to come loose. She gave a small squeak as she held it over her stomach. “I didn’t mean to do that… Oh well! I’m assuming you didn’t pick this yourself. It doesn’t seem very practical.”

“You think I wanted to dress like a damn Christmas ham?!”

“Some humans do. I’m not one to judge.”

“Pervert.”

“On the contrary, I think whoever dressed you is. I fully dress myself; unless a mortal sets my clothes on fire.” Gesturing to himself and his bare torso, Willow blushed heavily. Images of that body and herself flashed through her mind. She shook the guilty images out of her head and pushed him back. The fabric fell, leaving a skirt and a bra. (If you could even call it that).

“I swear. Get the fuck out of my head!” Wilson just cocked an eyebrow, feigning hurt.

“I assume you’re referring to the myth that we can hypnotise people? I’m afraid it’s just that. A myth.”

“Bullshit.”

“I can assure you, all thoughts are your own.” She still looked angry… most likely didn’t believe it. Taking a step away from her, he struck a pose, fangs in full view as he smiled at her. “I know, I know. You didn’t expect the prince of darkness to be so charming. It can be hard for the mortal mind to comprehend that I, am immortal being can posses not only the body of a god but the tact of a gentlemen~” Her mouth hung open, searching for something to say back. Wilson took the opportunity to take her hand and give her a small spin, letting her fall into the cleft of his wing and pulling at the fabric around his hips, letting it gather at his ankles. “I can’t blame you for having desires. Not only that but I’m happy to let you experiment with them. I do fancy myself as bit of a scientist~” As if it were a dance, Wilson moved closer, breathing onto her neck, brushing his lips against her carotid artery.

**_Her pulse was racing. The blood would be so sweet right now._ **

Willow’s couldn’t hear herself think over the pounding in her ears, there was no way this wasn’t some kind of vampire trick. She wasn’t going to fall for it. Every touch made her want to moan and flinch simultaneously. His fangs were dangerously close to her neck.

“G-get away from my neck!”

“I suppose I could.” He hummed against her, moving to her face, eyes interlocking. “But… you asked why you were here and that reason is to be fed upon. That’s how things work here. If you don’t allow me to feed then I at least desire to be entertained.” Willow pushes against the wings holding her, unaware of how red her cheeks had become.

“F-Fuck you and this damned game! I should have just been a part of that fucking hunt!” She started looking for a way out. What started as a chuckle, then grew into a hearty laugh for Wilson. He couldn’t believe the determination she had. With a grin he tilted her head to look him in the eyes. **_So much blood in those rosy cheeks._**

“In all my centuries, I’ve never had to wait this long to engage with a mortal. Usually by now I’d be finishing up. Instead… you still refuse me.” He lent closer again, still as suave and confident as ever. “But not you Miss Willow. I like it.” The wings around her shrunk back, causing her to stumble backwards. He turned his back on her, pulling his pants but up to sit on his waist. What? Why did he let her go? What the hell was this?! Adrenaline made her shake as she did her best to cover her chest with the thin strip of fabric remaining. (She should just hold her arm there…)

“W-What are you playing?!” He glanced over his shoulder as he walked over to a wardrobe, opening its wooden doors.

“Hmm? Elaborate.”

“A-all that! A-and you just l-let me go?! This is one cruel game! You’re going to wait until a drop my guard and then-then-th-then…” She didn’t even want to think about it.

As fun as it was to see her squirm in her flustered fear, he really didn’t mean to torture the poor woman. His xanthous eyes met hers softly.

“I am not going to rape you Willow. That would be ungentlemanly. I’m immortal, not immoral. If the underlings has gotten to you before I did, it might have been a different story.” The wings on his back seemed to melt into his flesh, dissolving like sugar in warm water. It was almost mesmerising… He slipped on a pale shirt, walking back over to her. Willow recoiled as he took her hand, examining it. “That burn already looks better. I suppose you already have scar tissue here… it tends to be more calloused, stronger.” He then pressed something into the palm of her hand. A ring? “If you wear that, no one else will bother you. It sort of marks you as my property.” Wilson held back a smile as she scowled at him.

“I’m not your damn property.”

“Try telling that to the others in the manor, hmm? I’m sure they won’t eat your innards.” Ah… right… Willow slipped it on her middle finger, unable to hold herself from admiring the gemstone embedded within the gold cradle. How expensive must the damned thing be? It would take her several lifetimes to get enough money to get something half as extravagant. “Do you know much about gemology?” She shook her head. “This is a garnet. Red gemstone family. Red gems generally contain heat. Much like the sapphire I gave you for your burn before contains cooling properties as it’s a blue gem family stone. This one is nearly purely decorational however. Gems that show their family properties are rare at best. I’m not one who believes in their spiritual properties but if you’re curious I’m sure Miss Wickerbottom will tell you if you ask her.” Wilson grabbed a red vest and a dark coat to replace his smouldered attire. All he needed now was a cravat…

Willow was silent as she watched. Questions buzzing through her head. This whole situation was too much. She was mentally exhausted. She could feel tears pushing their way into her eyes. She didn’t want to be here. She just wanted to be home; in her shitty little shack with her job at the ironworks. That’s all she wanted. There was some kind of draft in the room, chilling her exposed skin. The ring did feel a little warm… nothing too useful though…

Wilson noticed her shiver. She needed proper clothing; as enticing and beautiful as she was like that. He would keep that clothing, but ensure she had practical attire. “I’ll send a tailor to this room. They’ll have something new for you to wear by morning. Just tell them what you want.”

“W-where are you going?”

“Back to watch the hunt. It’s probably nearing completion, but, I tend to take notes if I’m not busy. You’re welcome to come if you promise not to burn anymore of my clothing, or yourself for that matter.” Maybe she could find a way out? Much like she was doing before he interrupted her in the other room. “I will be locking the door if you decide to stay. I don’t want you getting lost. Or falling out any windows~ We are a bit too high to… spelunk down the side of the castle.” Fuck. Shit fuck! She was either stuck here or back near the screams. A hand tilted her head up, causing her to tense.

Wilson gave a small smile as he looked into her eyes, pools of amber widening at the realisation of his touch. “I’d enjoy your company. I promise you’ll be safe. We can shut out the sounds if they bother you. I’m desensitised is all, I forget how painful it can be to mortals.”

“I-I want something else to wear.”

“Alright. How about I wrap you in my wings, would that be enough?~” Somehow her scowl never dropped in intensity, in fact it only became more intense! It made Wilson chuckle internally. “I jest. You can wear one of my coats.” He quickly skimmed over his clothing until a scarlet coat caught his eye. Yes. This would compliment her eyes! He tossed it in her direction, enjoying watching her fumble to catch it and bend over to pluck it off the floor. What he’d give to take those garters off for her…


	3. No Hard Feelings?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter focused on Charlie and Maxwell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be a double upload so if you're just here for Willowson (you ho, jk everybody loves Willowson) then skip the chapter. This chapter jumps between past and present via little ~~~~~

* * *

The scent of blood was in the air. As enticing as it was Charlie had her sights set on a bigger prize than just a meal. She planned to take care of the current king. Vampire culture was much more different to humans; they lived, ate, felt and governed differently. One vampire governed all, Dracula. But only a select few ever heard from him. He was a myth, a legend, the idol of their people. It took hard work to be noticed, even harder work to gain an audience with him. Maxwell stood in her way. He was a good little lap-dog, doing everything he was told. They had been friends once, but that was almost a thousand years ago. It started with friendly intention, growing into something more and then...

~~~~~

The night was frigid, snow whirling like a ravenous swarm of insects. Charlotte could feel it through her layers of clothing. The box in her arms was beginning to weigh her down. “May I help you ma’am?” She turned to see a taller man with rounded glasses holding his arms out toward her.

“O-oh. I’m almost where I need to be. Could you perhaps open the door for me?”

“Of course. Maybe you’ll invite me in for a meal too?”

“Depends how you act mister.” He laughed and folded his arms behind his back.

“Of course.” The pair soon arrived at the tavern, the man holding the door open for her. As she walked in the door warmth greeted her, making her sigh in relief.

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing, really.”

“Come inside, I’ll be sure to make get you a small something as a thank you.”

“You’re far too kind.” They stepped in and headed towards a front desk.

“Just tell them Charlie sent you for helping me. The chef will take care of things.”

“Thank you again.” She beamed and headed into the back area, away from the customers.

“Charlie! I was beginning to think you got lost in the storm!” A larger woman came her way, bringing Charlotte's smaller form into her arms. It brought a smile to Charlotte’s face and a chuckle from her throat.

“You and me both Winona, I honestly can’t believe how fierce the weather is already.”

“Not your typical November that’s for sure! Here, let me take those off your hands.” Winona took the crate from her younger sister, carrying it for her. Charlotte followed, glancing at the crowd for the night.

“It’s quite busy tonight.”

“I blame the cold. Brings in all the travellers. Good for business though!” Charlotte couldn’t help but smile in her sister’s presence, she was so much more independent and charming than her. Winona felt the exact same way about her sister however, grinning more than she had in the two days she was gone. The duo went to a workshop located at the back of the complex; the whinnying of horses coming from the stables outside. “I’m sorry to have sent you out there Charlie.”

“I told you before I left that I wanted to go! Stop apologising!”

“I know, I know! I just... I’ve not made you go on your own before. Then this damn snowstorm hits us? I should have gone.” Rolling her eyes, Charlotte headed towards the stairs that lead to her bedroom.

“I took care of myself! Besides, I got your supplies and you didn’t have to stop working. Now we’ll hopefully be able to put that little bit of extra cash towards the extension!” Winona chuckles and messily ruffles her sister’s hair before she can abscond up the staircase.

“You deserve it Charlie. Really.” She could only blush and squirm out of her sister’s grasp.

“Thanks Winona. I’m going to get changed into my attire for tonight’s little performance. I’ll come tell you about my trip after.”

“Alright. I expect to hear all the details.”

 

The sisters were part of the staff for an establishment called ‘Feathers and Iron’. It was a place owned by a lumberjack and his wife, but they had all become one big family. The tavern wasn’t only a place to spend the night or have a drink; it was also a place to fortify yourself. There were plenty of beasts one had to be weary of. From goblins to dire wolves, vandals to vampires. Winona was a skilled blacksmith and her craft had kept the tavern safe from attack for two years now; that and Wolfgang. He was a skilled fighter, the guardian of the town. Their little town was a safe-haven for weary travellers and families alike. The tavern was a popular spot for all kinds of people for miles.

The extension was going to be a workshop for Charlotte; a place she could practice her own craft. While Winona was fantastic with some metal and hot coals, Charlotte preferred plants and books. She hoped to become well-versed in witchcraft and perhaps even become the local apothecary. Feathers and Iron would become a key location on anyone’s map; a place to stock up on supplies and a good night’s rest.

Charlotte’s primary drive right now was entertainment. It was a way for her to practice her spells and lighten the hearts of all those who stayed the night. Every other day she would stand up on stage, looking over the visitors as they drank and ate. A few words and fire appeared out of thin air, earning a pleased gasp from all those watching.

Magic wasn’t common, at least not in humans. There were a few who were able to teach themselves and even less who were gifted with it. Charlotte was one of the lucky ones, a gift passed down through the generations, allowing her to learn without the rigorous academics usually associated with those who desired magical abilities. It warmed her heart to see people smile as she practised making rings of fire, shards of ice, crackles of electricity, turning a seed into a sprout within seconds. Occasionally another wizard or witch would approach her after and they would talk and learn from one another. She loved it when children were in the audience however, she would pour all her energy into making them smile. At the end of her performance she would thank everyone for coming to the Feathers and Iron. It was more than enough to make her happy.

 

Charlotte found herself lost in thought as someone tapped her on the shoulder. She jumped, turning to them. The man in rounded glasses from earlier stood behind her, a warm smile on his face.

“Sorry to disturb you ma’am but I wanted to complement your performance tonight.” A flush of heat came to her cheeks.

“Thank you, sir. Can I offer you a seat?” She gestured to the chair on the other side of the table. The man gave his thanks and sat down, glancing over the books she had on the table.

“Are you self-taught?”

“Yes. I am.”

“That’s quite spectacular. Not many people can do that.”

“It’s a gift. I’m lucky is all.”

“And I’m lucky to have been in this establishment and see you perform.” The heat deepened, causing her to fidget with her hair. “Might I ask your name?”

“It’s Charlotte. It’s a pleasure to meet you-” She cocked an eyebrow with a smile.

“William.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you William.”

~~~~~

Where was he? The wind whistled past as she soared overhead, looking for Maxwell in the light of the full-moon. Her eyes fell upon him, he had someone against a wall, wings folded, claws deep in their flesh. He was exposed, preoccupied feeding. _Excellent_. Her plan was simple, drug him and let him die as the morning sun rose.

No foul-play, merely a tragic accident.

Her magic no longer worked; it faded along with her blood many centuries ago. Her knowledge however... A concoction composed of rare ingredients that had the ability to trap a vampire in one of its transformations. If she administered it now, her plan wouldn’t work. No. He needed to change into something smaller; more manageable. She needed him to take his bat form, something small enough wrap her fingers around. Charlie landed next to him, dusting herself of imperfections.

“Excuse me Maxy, I had my eye on that one.” He pulled away, chuckling.

“Well I’m afraid I got to them first, I may be willing to perhaps share.”

“Such a generous King~” She gave a laugh, sauntering closer to him, eyes half-laden. Arrogant idiot. ‘King’. Most of the ruling vampires didn’t pick something so absurdly egotistical. A count, lord or governor were common. _But no. He had to be a **king**_. “It’s been a while since I last talked to you one on one. We had a short one at the last gala meeting. What was that… fifty years ago? How lucky, that you and Countess Wickerbottom were chosen to host this year’s gala together.”

"I was hoping we would get a chance to speak in private actually."

"You and me both Maxy."

~~~~~

She had been waiting for William in the cold air for quite some time now. Where was he? He said to meet her here at eight, so her she was on the dot. Maybe she was too zealous…

“Charlie! I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting!” The taller man hurried over, a thick coat of what seemed to be wolf fur.

“I was just about to go blue! What took you so long?”

“I had to ensure I wasn’t followed.”

“Such a mysterious man~” She smirked at him, the gesture usually getting a smile in response. Not this time. “What’s wrong Wil?” He seemed solemn. That couldn’t be good. With a sigh he looked over his shoulder before turning his gaze to her own.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you Charlie. I need to tell you something, but you must promise not to tell another soul.” A feeling of dread began to fill the air between them.

“Of course, Wil. I won’t tell anyone.” Charlotte had her suspicions about what this was about. There were little things about him that made her think. The way she never saw him eat in front of her, swearing he had sharp teeth, only appearing in the later hours of the day. She didn’t want to believe it though; didn’t want to believe he could be one of **them**.

“For starters Charlotte... My name is Maxwell, not William.” He took her hands in his, running his thumbs over her knuckles. “And I’m not human. Not anymore.” Charlotte let out a sigh, looking into his eyes.

“I was afraid you were going to say that. Please tell me you’re not a...” Her voice trailed off, not wanting to say it.

“Vampire? Yes. I’m sorry.” Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to fall against his chest, he in turn wrapped his arms around her.

“Damn it William... You shouldn’t be here... Wolfgang will kill you if he finds out.”

“I know. That’s why I felt I needed to tell you. You’re my confidant Charlie.” His hand lifted her cheek. She opened her eyes, once again looking into his. “I trust you.”

“I trust you too... It’ll be our little secret. I promise.”

“There’s a good girl.” He gave a smile, leaning closer. “I don’t want this to change things between us.”

“It won’t. Do you prefer Maxwell or William?”

“Maxwell. But keep using William for now, I don’t want you accidentally saying Maxwell.”

“Alright. William it is.”

“I have something to ask of you... It’s a big favour...”

“What?”

“I haven’t fed in days. I’ve been too worried about getting caught. Normally I would drift from town to town but I didn’t want to leave because you’re here. I don’t expect you to say yes...”The action in question didn't need to be mentioned, it was fairly clear what he wanted.

“You want to... feed... from me?” He was silent for a moment, but silence can speak volumes. She hesitated a moment before opening the top of her coat, pulling the collar of her dress away to expose her neck.

“Are you sure?”

“I don’t know honestly but I want to help. So... maybe hurry before I change my mind.” With a nod he moved closer, pushing on her clothing to expose lower. Charlotte flinched as he pierced the skin near her collarbone, but a gentle hand on her cheek kept her focus. It didn’t take long for him to pull away and place his hand over the wound.

“Thank you Charlie.”

“It’s nothing... really... You’re not a monster... You don’t deserve to be treated like one...” He gave another smile, keeping her close.

“I didn’t think I could be in love with a mortal.” Heat rushed to her cheeks, a smile tugging at her lips.

“I... I’m flattered William.” He closed the gap between them, pressing his lips against hers. Charlotte was taken back at first but soon wrapped her arms around him, returning the gesture. She didn’t see why they couldn’t be happy together. She was absolutely taken by his charm and manners, he seemed genuine. She’d see how things went...

Maxwell couldn’t believe how sweet she tasted. It was true, magic mortals did taste better. She was a delicacy, a rare delight. He was lucky to have her all to himself, he just had to regulate how often he fed and keep her interested in sweet little William. He couldn't allow him to grow more attached than he already had...

~~~~~

Maxwell gave Charlie a smile, moving to the side. “Perhaps we can chat over a meal?” The prey’s arm weakly twitched as Charlie approached, placing her hands on their shoulder.

“I’d love to.” The apprentice ran her tongue over the wounds Maxwell had left on its neck, maintaining eye contact with him.

“I see Wicker is teaching you well.”

“What can I say, I’ve always been gifted.” He chuckled, cocking an eyebrow at her.

“Indeed you have Charlie.” The pair feed upon the increasingly limp prey. She decided to make her move, taking the concoction in her mouth as she turned her head away from him, mixing it with the prey’s blood. She then made quick work, manipulating her body language and meeting his eyes, allowing her hand to slip on top of his, faces moving closer. The prey fell, forgotten, unneeded. It was easy to get the first kiss started, exchanging the fluid in her mouth for his tongue as she clung to him. Seems he was just as lustful as ever.

Maxwell pulled away, suspicious of her activity. The last time they had been alone was under... unpleasant circumstances on her side. “What are you attempting to gain out of this Charlie?” She slipped her hand from his shoulder to his chest.

“Nothing Maxy. I’ve waited a thousand years to finally see you again. I missed you.”

“You’ve had centuries to approach me.”

“I had no idea whether you’ve been dead or alive. For all I know you were killed by hunters. I’ve only been an apprentice for a handful of centuries. Only now am I allowed to participate in gala arrangements!” He was still weary, but couldn’t deny his fondness for her. She was the most attractive human he’d come across in his time on Earth. A combination of body, personality, taste and gumption had drawn him in. He was distraught when he couldn’t stay with her; alas he didn’t have the authority to turn her and wished to continue rising in the ranks. He had to let her go.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“I’ve had centuries to get over it, I’ve moved on. Well.. Not entirely... I can’t forget the magical time we spent together before you left.”

“Why not at the gala meeting? Why now?”

“I didn’t know how to feel at first Maxy. Now I do.” She pressed their bodies together, letting her wings rest on his waist. “Come with me. Let’s leave the hunt to the rest of your faction. I would much rather speak to you in private. We can catch up.”

“Can it not wait until after my dear?”

“Women are fickle Maxy~ I might change my mind~ Lets sneak away while whimsy is still in the air!~” She shrunk, down allowing her wings and fur to consume her form. Within moments she was a fraction of her size, beating her wings hard to keep elevated. Making her way towards the sky she checked to ensure he was following her. A feeling of pure ecstasy flooded her system as another bat approached her, Maxwell no longer standing below. This was it! Centuries of planning, locating, experimenting and waiting, all coming together on this absolutely gorgeous night.

~~~~~

He couldn’t bring himself to do it, to tell her he had to move on. He’d grown closer to her as they spent more time together. It was just a feeding thing at first, but Maxwell soon found himself feeling for the mortal woman. It would be easier for her just to fear him. So... he did what he had to.

 

A spring storm had come through, thunder rumbling loudly throughout the night. Maxwell made his way through the building from Charlie’s room. The strongman was his biggest threat, so it was only natural he would be the one to turn. His snores could be heard from the hall, rivalling the thunder outside. He would have to be quick or the man would alert the others before turning. Maxwell bit into the man’s neck, causing him to jolt awake. There was a shout, silenced by leathery wings in his mouth. Crimson splattered onto the bed, a fist connecting with the side of Maxwell’s head. The dazed vampire dodged another oncoming attack, lightning highlighting the terror in the mortal’s eyes. He lunged again, the larger man hitting the ground with a heavy thump. Maxwell did his best to drain some blood, making room for his own and weakening the man’s retaliation. Taking his own hand, Maxwell ran it along his fangs, a deep wound across the palm. He then pressed his would against the mortal’s mouth, forcing it down their throat. After a few moments the struggle was over and the transformation started. Maxwell allowed his wings to fold neatly behind him as the man convulsed, fur and leather covering his one human form. The ghoul rose from the ground, a beastly face in its wake. “You’re to scare Charlotte. Not harm her. Do you understand?” The beast snarled.

“Others”

“Expendable.”

 

Charlotte awake to the sound of screaming; she looked for William. He was gone. There’s no way he would... She threw off the sheets, forming a small flame in her hand to see. “William?!” Stepping out into the hall she hesitated, there was noise coming from the visitor’s wing. (Horrible, horrible noise.) Winona suddenly burst from her room across from hers, panic in her eyes.

“Stay here Charlie. I’ll find out what’s going on.” She ran down the hall, a blade in hand. No way she was letting Winona go by herself! Charlotte ran after her sister, only coming to a stop when they reached the rooms. A hulking beast stood in the hallway, its figure hardly standing straight, wings half-folded. It turned to face them, bat-faced, blood dripping from its maw. Half a torso lay on the ground...

Winona was frozen, trying to assess her odds. She needed help; this wasn’t something she could take on her own. How did one of the turned get into city limits? They had knights for this reason! It screeched at them, causing Charlotte to cover her ears, the small flame going out. Winona pushed her sister back without thinking, heading back the way they came. The ghoul thundered right behind them, heavy footsteps falling closer and closer. It screamed as something collided with its back. A moment to think. “Charlotte! There's a silver spear in the workshop. I want you to get it, lock the doors and stay put. Do you hear me?”

“I’m not going to leave you here! I can help!”

“Charlie!”

“Winona!” There was determination in her little sister’s eyes. She would rather die than see her sister hurt but she was right. She was gifted. Maybe they could at least scare it off. Winona turned to see the owner of the establishment brandishing an axe against the ghoul in the dining room. Now or never she supposed. With a nod they headed back towards the beast. Winona drove her short sword into its thigh, its hand swinging around and winding her. Turning, it bared its teeth. Charlotte pushed the air in front of her, small shards of ice flying forward and embedding into its torso. As it turned to her the owner, Woodie, hacked at it with his axe again. An ear-piercing screech sounded out, the creature outstretching its wings. Charlotte launched another volley of ice at it, this time the shards blown out of their trajectory by a beat of its wings. Winona dove for her sword, pulling it out of the creature’s leg and this time slashing the blade at it. The leathery wings came up, a large hole appearing in the webbing, beast unphased. Its hand swung around, grabbing Winona by the arm and throwing her into Woodie. Fire. They needed fire. Focusing Charlotte summoned a volley of flames this time, casting it at the beast.

“You cannot defeat the mighty Wolfgang!” Again, its wings came up and took the damage for him. Charlotte couldn’t believe her ears. Did it just say Wolfgang? Their Wolfgang?

Suddenly Winona was grabbing Charlotte and pulling her to the door, Woodie screaming at the creature. Once in the street Winona looked to the sky, then she continued pulling her sister towards the barracks.

“Winona! We can’t run! Woodie is in there!”

“Charlie! We’re not going to fight him! We’re going to let the knights do their job!”

“But Wolfgang-”

“But nothing Charlie! Wolfgang is gone! Do you know what’s happened here?! Your damn naivety did!”

“Hey!”

“No! I told you that guy was bad news! You can’t trust vampires!”

“You don’t know it was him!”

“I should have just said no. Told you, you can’t see him. This is my own damn fault.”

“We can find him and ask him if he did it!”

“Who else would have Charlie?! What other vampire have we invited into our lives?!”

“H-he wouldn’t have.”

“He’s a vampire! You’re lucky you’re not dead! You let him bite you!”

“He didn’t want to hurt anyone!”

“Look at what he’s done!”

“It wasn’t him!” A whistle sounded out, the sisters both turning their attention to its source. William stood on the roof of the tavern, pointing at them. Wolfgang burst through the door, wood splintering under the pressure. Dark red streamed from wounds all over his body, he glanced at his master and then to the sisters. The hulking beast ran at them, Winona grabbed her sister, pulling her away yet again. “WILLIAM!” Tears formed in her eyes. He couldn’t have. She trusted him.

Winona’s leg came out from underneath her, causing the sisters both to topple over. Charlotte could only watch as Wolfgang dragged her sister towards him by her leg, plunging their teeth into her waist. Winona screamed and so did Charlotte. It shook its head violently, as a wolf would do to tear flesh from bone. The younger sister stood, running at the beast and muttering an enchantment, a ball of fire hitting it in the face. Her dress tore as she skidded to a halt on her knees, muttering another spell. This time thick vines erupted from the earth to surround them. Wolfgang wailed, pounding on the roots. Blood soaked into Charlotte’s clothing as she scooped her sister up in her arms, deep teeth marks streaked across her side.

“I... I’m sorry for yelling at you Charlie.”

“No, no. You were right. I was stupid.”

“Nah... you’re... you’re the clever one out of us.” Winona hissed in pain, breathing becoming more and more laboured.

“Hang on Winona. I... I’ll fix you up... okay? Just hold on.” There was a scream from somewhere in the street, moments later the church bell could be heard. Maxwell took this as his cue to leave; that was more than enough to ensure Charlie would never seek him again. “The knights are coming Winona. You’re going to be okay.”

“Don’t put these vines down... until... until you know... its dead.” Wolfgang’s claws were beginning to tear through the roots as a crossbow bolt hit him in the shoulder. He let out a screech and beat his wings, unable to lift himself off the ground as the membranes were littered with tears. Another bolt tore through the air, impacting on the ghoul's chest. Charlotte clung to her sister, putting her hand over the wound, muttering a spell to cauterise the bite marks. She could hear the scuffle outside their little nest, the rattle of knight armour, the cries of their former friend. It didn’t take too long before the sounds stopped and someone told her it was okay to lower the vines. Her legs were too shaky to stand. Exhausted and in shock she cried out to the knights to get the town healer. Winona put her arm around her younger sister, telling her how much she loved her. Charlotte told her to tell her once she was better, to hang on just a little longer.

 

She didn’t survive to see the sunrise.


	4. Deluge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning towards the end here.

* * *

With the hunt finished, the festivities began to draw to a close. People migrated inside, going back to much like before the hunt. This time Willow could pick the humans in the crowd, they were quiet, avoiding eye contact. Wilson had taken her to sit up front with the rest of the head vampires, he insisted on her sitting in his lap and she hesitantly complied.

Wilson was scanning the crowd for his mentor, it was unlike him to vanish while he had the opportunity to flaunt his position over all those lesser than him. “Miss Wickerbottom, have you seen Maxwell?”

“I’m afraid not Wilson. Charlotte is in the crowd, enjoying herself. Why don’t you? I can handle the festivities.” He hummed thoughtfully, resting his head on Willow’s shoulder. She had to fight the urge to flinch as his breath grazed her neck. The coat helped... It was nice not to be so exposed...

“I suppose. Would you mind another dance Miss Willow? Perhaps more food? Exploring the grounds?” She rubbed her arm, looking out into the crowd. Her appetite wasn’t exactly her priority, nor was dancing. Although, if she only had the two options, he didn’t dance badly... Leaving sounded like the best option however.

“I kinda wanna look around.”

“Exploring it is then. I’ll see you at the auctions then Miss Wickerbottom.”

“Alright. Don’t be late. Without Maxwell you may need to assist.”

“Noted. Let’s go for a wander my little fire-starter.” Rolling her eyes, Willow stood. Wilson took her hand in his and then lead them away from the ballroom. Once out of sight Willow pulled her hand back and rubbed her wrist. Wilson kept watching her, looking at her expectantly.

“What do you want?”

“I don’t believe I asked for anything.”

“You’re giving me a weird look.”

“What kind of look?~” A smile started to tug at the corner of his lips. _Damn it_.

“Never mind.” He laughed, putting an arm around her.

“Come on, you can tell me~ Is it a sad look?” He feigns a pout, quickly switching to a half-assed snarl. “What about angry?”

“No.”

“Surprised?” Willow pulled a face that made Wilson’s insides squirm. It was a mix between annoyance and confusion perhaps. _Adorable_.

“It’s a dumb, cocky smile and you won’t stop! No offence but I don’t really trust you. I have no idea what you might be planning.” Now he was grinning, that was even worse. Wilson saw the heat that rose in her cheeks as his grin widened. It made him lean forward, humming next to her ear.

“Oh yes, I have nefarious plans in mind for you Miss Willow. I’m going to start with a bath, then a tailor, then perhaps you’ll allow me to feed and then we can decide what you want for your next payment for another feed. Evil, evil plans indeed~” Willow couldn’t help but frown. She knew he was going to be sarcastic as soon as he started talking, but to actually tell her what he had in mind? It was sort of unexpected.

“You staying I’m dirty? They made me clean before coming here you know.” _**Oh...**_ the thought of her cleaning herself sent guilty shivers down his spine.

“It’s supposed to be more about relaxing than cleaning. You can wind down after the events of the night, my tailor will provide their service to you and then once you’re settled we can talk about letting me feed.”

“I’m a fucking pet to you?”

“Would you like to be? I can get you a collar and everything~” Shaking her head, Willow quickened her step. Wilson clicked his tongue; this seemed like something he could use to push her buttons. “I mean, I know some people prefer that just for the bedroom so if you’d like to keep it for that then I understand.” She walked faster, but Wilson easily kept up, closing the gap between them. With a swift move he put his arm around her waist, pulling her to face him, pressing her body against his. “If you’re a good girl I'll let you get one for me~” She looked absolutely mortified, her cheeks a vibrant shade of pink.

“Please stop.”

“On the contrary, I think you’re enjoying this conversation.”

“I’m really not.”

“I’m hyper sensitive to blood flow Miss Willow and I can tell you’re enjoying this because of _where_ it’s flowing.” Her hand came up and hit him across the cheek. The vamp was stunned as the mortal pulled away from him and continued storming down the halls. She was flustered, so wonderfully so. With a chuckle he hurried up to her, humming something.

“Please go away.”

“What kind of gentleman would I be if I let you get lost?”

“What you said literally ten seconds ago was **not** very gentlemanly.”

“Perhaps not; but it was a scientific observation.” She rolled her eyes.

“Why are we wandering around? What’s this all for?”

“You want to be acquainted with your new home, don’t you?” Spinning on her heels, Willow gave him a quizzical look. Before she could respond, Wilson interjected. “The whole point of the gala is to feed ourselves. Once you arrive at the gala you are no longer a free person, that’s the law. With the hierarchy in place, I can choose an item of prey without having to fight or bargain for it.” Willow wasn’t exactly sure about his intentions with her but being called prey cleared everything up. That’s all she was. Prey. Maybe she needed the reorient her way of thinking. All this messing around was just to get her to give in. Even worse, maybe this was some sort of Stockholm situation. Vampires were said to have hypnotic powers, that coupled with some charm and she could see how people got trapped without being torn apart or imprisoned. But maybe she could use this against him, to give her time and come up with a plan.

~~~~~

The exploring was relatively uneventful. Willow used the chance to take mental notes of exits and things she might be able to use to defend herself. Before she knew it Wilson had lead her back to the ballroom and towards the chairs at the front. The two women were already waiting. He sat, glancing at the empty seat beside him, fingers playing with Willow’s pigtails. The elder of the two women stood, folding her hands in front of her.

“It seems Maxwell won’t be joining us for this year’s auction. Wilson will take his place as his apprentice. We shall start with this young human. Bidding starts at ten gold pieces.” Willow watched as someone was brought to the front, shaking like a leaf. Their eyes fell upon hers, pleading for her to help him. She could only give a similar look back, she was as stuck as he was. A number of hands shot up. The elder rose the price, watching for hands; raising it again and again until no one bid.

This was their ultimate fate? To be sold off like livestock at a market. The fire-starter turned her head away, clenching her hands into tight fists. Wilson noticed, pulling her closer and wrapping his arm around her waist. He could feel her pulse quicken under his touch. It’d been so long since he’d last thought like a mortal, this must be frightening for her. Under most circumstances he would not have given it a second thought, fear added a sweet taste to the blood after-all. But there was something about this mortal… he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. The thought of her put a spring in his step. The sight of her made him feel impish and giddy. The touch of her soft skin made him feel as if his dead heart was actually beating. He wasn’t exactly sure what this was but he had a sneaking suspicion it was love. This wasn’t the first time he’d been intimate, not by a long shot and there had been times where he thought that maybe he might be in love; but those feelings faded as soon as the thrill did. He’d tried staying with mortals before, to see how it went (in the name of science). But, it never seemed to work out how he wanted. They aged far too quickly, were far too fragile and vampires being in the presence of humans made them uneasy. It was much simpler to have a fling and a feed, be done with them then and there. Wilson wanted to experiment with this one. See if she would be different.

 

Willow thought as intensely as she could about the cracking of fire, the heat from the flames. Eventually her mind seemed to disassociate from the present. She was unsure of how long the ‘auction’ took, but eventually everyone seemed to be leaving. Mixed feelings arose from within her. One one hand, the numerous beasts were gone and on the other, she was stuck here with no one but Wilson. (The guy who kept calling her prey!) The women sitting by them were the last to leave, the elder turning to Wilson.

“If you see Maxwell, let him know I’m most disappointed with him for leaving so soon.”

“And that were worried for him. Send a ghoul when you know he’s safe hmm?” The woman- (Charlie was it?) -sang out in a sweet tone before waving and leaving with her superior.

Then there were two...

Thoughts began to race through Willow’s head. She wanted to leave, to walk out the door like the others. But she wasn’t like them, she wasn’t a beast. She was just one of the livestock, she had just been put in this castle instead of another. Now Wilson had her alone. Would he actually follow through with what he had said or was it just another joke?

“Come along Miss Willow.” Wilson stood, causing Willow to slip off his lap and stand. The pair went through the halls yet again, going through the room he had cornered her on the bed in and into what seemed to be a washroom. The sink alone must have cost more than her entire house back in the village. Golden plated taps hung over a dark marble basin, polished to perfection. A copper tub caught her eye; wrought iron curling around it like weeds, suspending it from the ground. It sat in the corner, a marble ledge coming from the wall, items scattered upon it. Something she would expect in an expensive city suite; then again it pretty much was an expensive suite. Vampires were renowned for their ruthless extortion of the people, this bathroom alone probably came from a dozen pillaged villages. Wilson made his way to the tub while Willow glanced around. She wanted to look herself over, see the coat and glorified sheets she was wearing; but there wasn’t a mirror in sight.

“What are you looking for?” Her attention suddenly went to him.

“What?”

“You’re searching for something.”

“A-uh… A mirror.” Willow rubbed her arm, looking sheepish. Wilson felt a little dread well up inside him. Of course. Mortals and their mirrors.

“I’m afraid we don’t have any proper mirrors. I can get one of the underlings to bring polished copper.”

“Copper?”

“Would you prefer brass or gold instead?” She would rather just have a darn mirror.

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get this over and done with.” Pulling the coat tighter she followed him over to the bath. It was empty. That’s more her kind of bath, one without water. “Well I guess I’m going to have to wait for the hot water to boil. Shame. Let’s go.”

“Hang on a moment. Watch.” Reaching out for a chain suspended from the roof, he pulled. A lever lifted, hot water pouring from a pipe coming out of the wall, falling into the basin below. “I’ve rigged up a piping system that uses gemstones to heat the water. To turn it off you pull the other chain here. It’s one of a kind; instant hot water.” Willow frowned, what would he do if she refused to bathe? She had noticed the grooves on the floor that led to a drain in the middle of the room. (Easy to clean up any large amounts of blood.)

“There’s no such thing as instant hot water. I don’t want a bath anyway.” He moved towards her, causing Willow to flinch. Wilson held down a chuckle as he took the coat off her shoulders, despite her meek attempts to hold onto it.

“My core boy temperature is lower than yours. I’m sure the manor must be cold for you. Warm up. It will also allow me to gauge your measurements for the tailor. I’ll need the clothes you’re wearing to get your size correct.”

“You’re going to have to wait outside the door then.”

“I don’t answer to you Miss Willow; in fact it’s supposed to be the opposite.” Adamantly crossing her arms over her chest, Willow refused to budge. “Can’t I even wash your hair for you?~” That glare could burn a hole through iron. “Alright, you win~ But you can’t hide that body of yours from me forever. I’ll want to dress your burn afterwards as well.” Wilson left the bathroom and clicked his tongue. While she was doing that, he should see where in the world Maxwell got to. But first, he would bring her a tailor.

 

Willow let out a hearty sigh as Wilson left. All night she just wanted to be alone and now she was… it felt lonely. Taking off what little she had on, she lowered herself into the water. As much as she hated to admit it, Wilson was right. It was freezing without the adrenaline in her system, the water was scalding, perfect.

Submerging as much as she could under the steaming water as it filled the bath; Willow brought her hand up to examine it. The burn from earlier was all but gone, not even sore. She didn’t understand why but her burns never took long to go down. She’s seen other people blister from nothing more than touching a hot stove. Willow loved the heat, relished it. Maybe she could escape by setting the manor on fire... It would be a big enough distraction to let her slip away through a sewer system or perhaps into the surrounding forest. There would be no guarantee that Wilson wouldn’t hunt her down if he survived it either. Surely there were more valuable targets he could worry about, rather than some small village nobody. She just had no idea what would happen. The best thing to do would be to kill him outright, then maybe run with the fire idea to escape. Her captor would be out of commission and the other monsters that patrolled the area would be occupied by the blaze. Willow needed a weapon. There were plenty of myths about what could and couldn’t kill a vampire, they ranged from silver blades to stakes made of oak wood. The only sure-fire way she knew of was sunlight, something about their bodies just didn’t agree with it. Maybe that meant they were more susceptible to fire? Would just setting the place on fire work after all?

She had to decide... she only had one shot at this.

Something welled inside her gut, moving up into her chest and finally spilling from her eyes. She couldn’t help it. She started crying. It was just too much for her. If she had just let the mayor’s brat have his way with her then she might still be in her shitty little shack in the village. She was hyperventilating, sobbing violently. _Stop crying Willow._ Her shitty little shack she called home that contained her belongings; Bernie, her lighter, her candles, her clothes, the savings she was collecting so she could move to the city. She’d give up that dream and stay with the brat if it meant she didn’t have to be here.

Why wouldn’t the tears stop falling? Why didn’t the heat of the water smooth her? Wasn’t this supposed to be relaxing?

The fire-starter grasped at tufts of her own hair, sinking down until all she could hear was the rushing water; until she couldn’t sob without water in her mouth. _Just stop crying damn it. Just stop._ Bubbles ran up her face as she screamed into the water. _JUST STOP_. Her lungs were screaming at her. She didn’t want to listen to them. She didn’t want to cry. She didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to die being someone’s plaything.

A burning sensation filled her lungs, worse than anything she’d felt before. It was like a thousand raging fires cascading into her chest. Her hands shot up, grabbing the sides of the copper tub as she started choking, coughing only inhale more water instead of air. Her body started to pull but Willow pushed down. **_Just stop_**. Bubbles filled her vision, the blurred lines of light falling into the water. Her hands hurt from how tightly she was holding the tub. But it didn’t matter. Nor did the sun blazing in her chest. It was surprisingly tranquil, but maybe that was the alcohol in her system. The sight of the fragmented beams of light and the sound of water rushing over itself. Like a bubbling brook or a creek running through rocks. She’d like to see Wilson mess with her mind now.

 

Wilson had gotten the tailor, an underling called Mr Skitz. The creature was formed with a spell cast by Wilson himself, a mass of energy given sentience. Wilson enjoyed playing with his abilities, learning the limits of what he could and couldn’t do. Mr Skitz was loyal and relatively harmless, made for the perfect assistant for Miss Willow while she adjusted to life in the manor. Once back in his room, Wilson knocked on the en-suite door. “Miss Willow. I’ll be sending in an underling to gather your clothes and supply you with new ones.” With the wave of his hand Mr Skitz sunk through the crack under the door, his serpentine body stopping for a moment before continuing. (Odd.) Just as he went to leave Mr Skitz materialised in front of Wilson, pointing at the door with a hiss. That couldn’t be good. Going back to the door he knocked again. “Miss Willow?” Nothing again. The sound of rushing water could be heard on the marble floor, was it overflowing? Had she attempted to mask her escape with the noise? Wilson opened the door, steam billowing out. Shock ran through his body as he adjusted to the temperature and peered through the humidity, her limbs lay splayed out from the bath, water flowing straight onto the floor due to the volume of the bath. Within seconds he was there, stopping the water and pulling her limp body from the water. First she throws herself into fire and now water. He was an idiot leaving her alone. Wilson checked her vitals, there was a faint pulse but nothing else. Putting her on the ground he started rhythmically pounding on her chest. Water gushed from her nose and mouth with each compression. _She needed to breathe_. The vamp pressed his lips against hers, she was warm, but he suspected from the water, not her actual core temperature.

Compressions, breathing, compressions, breathing.

Her chest begun to move on its own, eyes lazily opening. He rolled her onto her side, the woman foaming from the mouth. _She was breathing_. The water was leaving her lungs. Her heart was beating. He hadn’t been too late. “You.” That was all he could manage. He wasn’t sure whether to be angry, upset or relieved. (He was probably all three to be fair.) She started to shake. Wilson scooped her up in his arms, carrying her out of the en-suite and lay her on his bed. “I can’t decide if you’re incredibly brave or incredibly idiotic.” His voice was angry but his face almost looked amused, as if she had told him a riddle. “You’re banned from being alone, especially in the bath.”

Willow felt dazed. She saw and heard what was happening, but her brain refused to do anything. Her chest hurt; it was worse than smoke inhalation, worse than the bitter bite of winter, worse than anything else she’d experienced. She wanted to scream at Wilson, curse him for fishing her out. That was supposed to be her escape. He ruined it. He was just going to kill her anyway, why did it matter how it happened? A meek sound escaped her lips as she spluttered, more water coming up from within. With a sigh Wilson rolled her onto her side so she wouldn’t choke. His hand rest upon her waist, the smooth indentation tempting him to explore the fiery woman while she was incapacitated; alas he would never be so rude.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's my double upload and I'll be taking longer to upload as I'm back at university and hella busy.


	5. Foul Play

He couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised, he really should have seen it coming. By the time Maxwell realised he was in danger Charlie her her elegant nails wrapped around his body. Her scarlet eyes held such raw emotion, he would have swooned were it not for the imminent danger.

 

She had led him to a secluded part of the property, an overgrown fountain still bubbling despite the ivy attempting to block its path. Charlie landed first, outstretching out hand to him as he approached. Usually it would be a seamless transition from bat to humanoid, his hand was supposed to hold hers. But it didn’t change. In the split second he faltered she plucked him from the air like ripe fruit, an expression on her face that could only be described as euphoric malice.

 _“Sweet little Maxy.”_ She sung at him, a single finger stroking the fur on his head. He was held against a cobblestone wall, wings outstretched.

 _“One for Wolfgang.”_ A metal stake dug into the membrane of his wing, causing him to cry out.

 _“One for the child you left orphaned.”_ Another stake on the other wing, now suspending him instead of her fingers. The stake burnt burning painfully against his skin, it must have contained silver.

_“One for Lucy.”_

_“One for the mother that lost her son fighting the devil you made.”_

_“Another for the weeping mother who lost their child before it even got a chance to see its first birthday.”_

_“Can’t forget poor Woodie, who lost everything. His livelihood.”_ **Thunk** _. “Home.”_ **Thunk** _. “Friends.”_ **Thunk** _. “Family.”_ **Thunk** _. “Lover.”_ **Thunk** _._

The shiny pins littered his wings, the silver cauterising the wounds before they bled too much. Trying to struggle just sent waves of pain through him; his shrieking, lost to the ruckus of the hunt in the distance.

This was surely his demise. To be tortured by Charlie. He glared at her, only getting a smile in response, ruby eyes glowing in the moonlight. The countess spun one of the pins between her fingers, moving it towards his body. The tip irritated his waist as she held it there, her own hands steaming. _“This one is for betraying my trust.”_ This time Maxwell screeched as she pressed it deeper and deeper into his flesh. His body pulled against the stakes, only causing more pain to wrack through him. _“This one is for breaking my **heart**.”_ She sent one through his shoulder, the pain was unbearable. She shook his head between her fingers, taunting him. “Don’t pass out on me. Pay attention Maxy. This one is the most important one.” Pressing it against his chest, she ensured to go as slow as possible. She didn’t want to hit something vital, she wanted him to suffer. _“This one Maxy… This is for Winona… my sister Maxwell. My **SISTER**!”_ She pushed it as far as it would go, cracking deep into the rock behind him. His vision faded. Blood filling his lungs. He was powerless, completely vulnerable and exposed. Yet. She didn’t kill him. No. She moved away, outstretching her wings. Bid him farewell and then she was gone, not even worth a glance over the shoulder.

 

When the king came to, he could see the faint colour change of the clouds that signalled daybreak. He could hardly breathe, pain making him numb. How long had he been there? Trying to move, Maxwell pulled on his limbs. A thousand daggers shot up and down his spine. (Damn it to hell that hurt.) It was almost sunrise. He needed to move. The process of trying to dislodge his wings took forever, the easiest way to break free was to tear his own flesh from the stakes. So, he tore through the membrane of his wing, freeing it from the glistening pins that held him. With that same shaking wing he worked at the other ones. His shoulder and waist, the other wing. Soon it was only the one deeply embedded in his chest. She had missed his heart, but he guessed that was her intention. His eyes filled with water, nothing had brought him to tears in centuries… The stake refused to budge as the sun peaked over the horizon. Its beams began to peak out from the hills, searing the skin and fur on Maxwell’s body. At first it was tolerable but as it rose higher, so did the intensity of the rays. Soon it was causing smoke to rise off his body. Shouting in agony he pulled at the stake again, this time it seemed to melt away like ice in warm water. He fell, landing on the ground. Relief spreading through him. However, he wasn’t done yet. He needed the shade. Maxwell tried to fly to a window but his wings were in tatters, there was no way that would happen. His next plan was a drain, there was one by the fountain.

The crawl was agony; a blazing fire within each and every fibre that moved. It was a miracle he made it into the sewers before the sun reached him. The haze of whatever was halting his transformation began to lift, a faint energy fluttering through his being. He’d make his way inside and make Wilson fix his wounds...

~~~~~

Wilson had spent a good few hours keeping an eye on Willow, watching as she fell asleep to ensure there was no more water in her system. She had obviously reached her emotional limit, something that was likely partly his fault. He’d be gentler with her from now on. While she rested, Wilson took the liberty of dressing her burn. However, as he inspected her hands, he found no swelling or blistering. It was intriguing to say the least. She had only touched the log for a second, perhaps she was lucky and didn’t actually get a burn.

“Mr Skitz please take her measurements while I look for Maxwell. If she wakes up while I’m gone, please keep an eye on her. Tend to her needs and alert me to anything concerning.” The shadow creature nodded at his master and got to work as Wilson left the room. Now for Maxwell.

 

Wilson searched every room to no avail, he even began to search outside, checking the maze where the hunt took place. Maxwell had vanished, well and truly. It didn’t sit right with Wilson. The heir was about to head back to his room when one of the ghouls approached him. “Master Wilson, master Maxwell requires your presence in your study.”

“Thank you, dismissed.” He had already looked there damn it! What on earth was this man playing at?! Wilson swiftly made his way to his study, (more of a laboratory really) annoyance prevalent in his being. This annoyance melted however when he saw the elder slouched in a chair, wounded. “What on Earth happened to you?!” Maxwell’s head rose lazily, exhaustion in his eyes. Wilson made for his medical supplies, bringing them over to the injured vamp.

“Foul play. I was almost murdered.”

“Well it’s a shame they failed.”

“Hilarious Higgsbury.” Rubbing a salve into the wounds, Wilson noticed that they had been semi-cauterised. Such a wound was a trade-mark of silver weaponry, one of the only materials effective on their species. The wounds were not inflicted upon areas known to be fatal such as the heart or brain and his wings were in absolute shreds. Whoever had done this was either sloppy or wanted Maxwell to suffer.

“Were they a hunter? I can see they used silver.”

“It was one of our own.” Maxwell saw the questioning in Wilson’s eyes, he wanted more of an explanation. “I angered Charlie years before she turned, it seems the wounds are still fresh after all this time.”

“Charlotte did this do you?”

“Yes.”

“I assume you want to make me do something about her then.”

“Actually, I’d rather you not in this case.” The prince looked up, cocking an eyebrow at the king.

“You don’t want me to do something? Have you finally given up your blackmailing ways?”

“I’m afraid not. I’m still going to need your help to become a member of your father’s council.”

“Then she’s receiving special treatment.” Wilson’s expression softened, a child-like curiosity spreading across his features. “You like her.” Perhaps for the first time in a millennium or so, Maxwell could feet a heat in his cheeks.

“No, don’t be absurd. I just... deserved what she did to me is all.”

“Right. I’m sure the great and powerful Maxwell is as modest as his title suggests.”

“Of course I am. In fact, enough about me. How is your prey?” His Willow... Foolish but brave.

“You don’t actually care about her. You just want to change the subject.”

“Can’t say I didn’t try.” Hissing through gritted teeth, Maxwell adjusted his position. “How long will this take to heal?”

“Hard to tell. A long time I assume, they’re deep.”

“Don’t tell anyone of my condition until I recover. Charlie may attempt a second strike if she knows I’m weak. Tell anyone who asks that I’m travelling.” With a nod, Wilson stood, admiring his handiwork.

“You should feed and rest meanwhile, you’ve lost blood from what I can see.”

“Understood.”

“I’d like my lab back by the way, so get out of here.” Wilson pivoted and began to leave, halting in the door way. “Where exactly did she attack you and with what?” Were her intentions to kill him? Why not just go through the heart if so?

“In the courtyard, with stakes. The strangest thing occurred.”

“Hmm?”

“One of the stakes melted. I would appreciate if you investigated for me.” Melting silver stakes? Sounded more than ludicrous to Wilson. Deep down this information made him a little excited, he loved to investigate. (Not that he would show his excitement to Maxwell.) Instead he gave a grunt and took his leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been unsure of posting chapters because I'm not happy with them/exam period at uni.   
> I think I'm just hitting some writers block and that's why I'm not happy, not actually the work quality itself.
> 
> Anyways; back to Willow next chapter!


	6. Silver and Crimson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been way too long since I last updated. This year has been putting me through hell and I've had little to no time for myself between lessons and assignments the last few months.
> 
> I also wasn't 100% happy with this chapter, it usually takes me longer to upload when I'm unhappy with it too. But I don't think I can improve it and the work load is lessening for now.

* * *

Willow awoke to a dark, writhing mass darting around the room. Letting out the beginning of a scream she stopped, putting a hand over her throat. (Fuck it hurt!) She could only watch in horror as the mass approached her. It stopped at the side of the bed, large, pointed jaws gaping open, an uneasy aura emanating off of it. She sat up, the sheet falling and completely exposing her chest. The frightened woman quickly grabbed the cover and held it back up as the creature stared. She wanted to scream at it, tell it to fuck off. It let out a wispy snarl and extended its arms. What the fu-oh. It was... clothes. She slowly reached out and took them from the creature, furrowing her brow. She really didn’t like the way it was just watching her. What did it want? After a good while of staring, Willow gave up and turned her attention to the clothes it had offered her. They were surprisingly modest, something she would happily wear after having nothing on but strips of clothing like the night before. It didn’t take long for her to put them on, the insulation from her chilled surroundings was more than welcome. She went to look herself over, to see what the fire-brick red shirt and charcoal bottoms looked like on her person. But... there were no mirrors. With a sigh she glances over to the bathroom door. Fuck. What a mess yesterday was... The alcohol left a lingering dull headache, flashes of water and fear in her mind. The creature gave a soft growl, putting itself in-between herself and the door. Seemed this was one of Wilson’s pets, a lap-dog (lap-snake?) of sorts. Speaking of which... where was the bastard? 

 

Willow slowly made her way down the halls, beams of sunlight completely changing the feel of the location from the night before. The sun was safe, right? That creature from her room was darting from shadow to shadow. (It was almost cute.) Her biggest fear was rounding a corner, only to find Wilson standing there. Every time she held her breath, only to sigh when there was nothing there. Could she leave? There was nothing between her and the outside world. The front doors of the manor were even unlocked, allowing her to walk straight outside. For the first time in days she felt calm. The sun was bright, burning intensely; keeping the damned animals of the night away. After putting some distance between herself and the manor, the fire starter allowed herself to look at the building. 

The stark structure seemed to absorb the colour around it. A bad omen if ever she frickin’ saw one. She couldn’t wait to leave this place far, far behind, once she figured out how to get over the immense walls surrounding the property that is. The stone walls towered overhead; the only exit, an iron gate that stood just as tall. She gave the gate a good jostling, of course it was locked. It would never be easy to leave a vampire den.  

 

The small creature that had been following her stood in the shadow cast by the wall, hissing as she tried to open the gate. (Definitely one of Wilson’s pets.) Sticking her tongue out at it, Willow decided she would scale the walls. It couldn’t be that difficult, right? She tried to find foot-holes, wedging her fingers and toes into any crevice she could find; but no matter how hard she tried, she kept running out of spots to get leverage. Most of the wall was incredibly smooth, the gate itself composed of vertical bars with only a few foot-holds, all too far apart to actually climb. 

She felt like a rat in a cage; taunted by freedom just outside of her reach, inevitable danger inside with her. She walked around the perimeter until the sun was high above, manor house far enough to not seem so daunting. It was just going to be like this everywhere, wasn’t it? Even if she did find some sort of structural weakness, it would be way too close to night time. If she couldn’t go over, around or through the wall, then her last option was under. Willow had seen multiple drains, which meant there was a sewage system, right? A sewer system meant an exit to some form of running water, running water that couldn’t be separated from the outside. As much as the idea of leaving through a system filled with water made her want to be sick, if it was her only way out then she would have to take it. 

~~~~~ 

By the time Willow had found a drain she could squeeze into, it was dusk. There wasn’t nearly enough time to sneak off without anyone knowing. She’d have to wait until tomorrow, but that meant another night in the manor. She wondered if the vampires were already awake or not... A shape caught the corner of her eye. Something large left one of the upper floors of the manor, shrieking as it flew overhead. She’d seen those before, they usually attacked villages. People called them a range of things; hell-spawn, ghouls, beasts, the turned, the corrupted. Whatever people called them, there was something grossly unsettling about them. Those creatures were what happened when humans ingested vampire blood; tales from her childhood told of a divine punishment for greedy people seeking the vampire’s power. There was _nothing_  divine about them. 

The damned thing seemed to be getting closer, in fact it was. The fucking thing was coming down towards her! Panic filled her system as the monster extended its claws and dove out of the sky with a hearty shriek. Willow ran as fast as her legs would take her, the beast barely missing her as it barrelled past. Its wings beat heavily to keep it off the ground, turning to swoop at her once again. As it came down, she lept to the side, her face meeting the grass and dirt. 

Something grabbed her by the leg, pulling her off the ground. The stench of rot and dust filled her nostrils as the sight of wiry fur on pale skin came into vision. Willow screamed, the pain in her throat bringing tears to her eyes. She swung her fist at it, a tough hand wrapping around her wrist and pulling her face to its own. Jagged teeth jutted out of its ugly bat-faced jaw, death on its breath. She could see more of them; surrounding her. This was it. This was how she died. Not even by a damned vampire. The pair suddenly lurched and Willow could feel the air being pushed past her, body being jostled like a rag-doll. The ground moved further and further away; she didn’t know if she would rather be dropped or have her fucking face bitten off at this point.  _Where did they all come from? It was a damned swarm_. The next thing registering in her brain was the sight of tile and masonry, then a rapidly approaching floor. Its landing was heavy and ungraceful, large clawed feet stumbling as they hit the ground. Suddenly the fire-starter was dropped unceremoniously onto the ground with a thud. 

“Don’t manhandle her like that, you idiot!” Winded, she looked over to see Wilson approaching. The vampire swung his hand at the hulking mass, causing it to shrink back with a shriek and head into the air. Willow had heard that those monsters could tear a human in half, so for them to be scared of vampires was really proof of how malicious vampires really were. Why didn’t the monster kill  _her_ ?! Now she was stuck with  **him**! “I apologise for the ghoul’s roughness. They’re essentially animals.” Wilson extended a hand to Willow, getting a scowl in response. Forcing herself to her feet, Willow winced. Breathing hurt, the screaming she had done felt like sandpaper in her throat. “The clothes Mr Skitz made for you look stunning.” That was the name of Wilson’s ‘pet’? Mr Skitz? It kind of fit the semi-adorable creature. That didn’t matter right now though; Willow just wanted to sleep. Mainly so that she wouldn’t have to deal with Wilson and could escape the next day. The vamp didn’t have to know that however. “He tells me you’ve been a busy thing, outside all day. I hope the fresh air was nice.” Why didn’t he stop talking?! She’d go find the bedroom herself and sleep. 

 

As soon as the sun started sinking below the horizon Wilson made his way to the corner of the estate where Maxwell told him Charlie had attacked. Oddly enough Wilson found a small puddle of silver in the grass by one of the walls. It seemed whatever she used  _had_  melted in the sun. The prince wrapped it up in a piece of cloth and brought it back to his study to look at later; his next priority was Willow. 

When one of the ghouls came into the foyer with her and dropped the woman like a sack of potatoes, anger flared inside of him. They were stupid remnants of humanity, foot soldiers, hardly worth the effort to scold. Willow didn’t seem injured thankfully. He tried to engage in conversation as she stood on her own accord, but she ignored him and pushed past. She seemed to be in pain... Most likely from the night before. “Would you like me to take a look at what’s ailing you?” Again, silence. As much as the heir liked the maiden, he would still like to be listened to. Catching up to the mortal he took a hold of her hand, in response she pulled away roughly and spat at him. “Excuse you... That’s unhygienic...” The fiery woman stuck up her middle finger in response. It seemed she  _was_  hurt . (S he would have verbally attacked him by now otherwise. )  Wilson knew she wouldn’t listen to him  without a fight however . Swiftly,  he   grabs  her  shoulders  and  wraps  his wings around her  writhing form . This seemed to be the easiest way to get her attention. There were pinches of pain as she grabbed fistfuls of his  wing  membranes in an attempt to break loose. “Stop that and listen to me for  two  minutes.”  Once her  struggles ceased  Wilson opened his wings again, revealing the  _adorable_  disgruntled expression within. 

She tried to escape, or at least hurt the bastard. He didn’t sound phased though. With a sigh, she turned to Wilson as he lowered his wings. “Are you ready to listen?” 

“Fine.” Her voice was hoarse and meek. Wilson supposed his hypothesis was correct. She was injured from the other night.  

“I’m going to help with that throat of yours. Come to my study.” The mortal shook her head at him with a scowl. “Please Miss Willow. Then you can go to wherever you were headed.” Wilson could practically see the thoughts running through the woman’s mind as she considered his offer. Letting out a defeated sigh she follows the vamp through the halls.  

Wilson’s ‘study’ was interesting to say the least, looking more like some crazy laboratory. There were all kinds of weird structures and contraptions holding pieces of glassware. Willow had no idea what any of them did, but that didn’t stop her from wanting to touch them. The only deterrent was the vampire on the other side of the room, rummaging through a drawer. Maybe there was something she could use as a weapon in here… 

 

Meanwhile, Wilson was looking for something to aid in her recovery; a tonic made from various herbs should have her feeling better in no time; if prepared in the correct way that is. The medicinal properties of plants were overlooked by many mortals, an art more should really be invested in. He could hear Willow looking through his study, bits and pieces being pushed aside. “Miss Willow, perhaps you would like to assist me rather than potentially breaking something.” Shooting him a scowl she walks over, arms across her chest. “I need this Bunsen burner lit and you seem to be a fan of setting things alight, why not do it in a useful manner?” The heir swore he saw something flicker within Willow’s eyes; causing the corners of his mouth to twitch upward. With new-found curiosity she steps up to the table, opening the palm of her hand for some kind of ignition source. In turn, Wilson places a metal tin in her hand; a roll of stone to act like a flint, a compartment for fuel and a lid to swiftly extinguish the flames. Hopefully that shouldn’t cause too much damage. (Something in the back of his mind said otherwise.) 

Watching as she eagerly lights the Bunsen, Wilson places water and ingredients needed into the glass above the flames. Soon enough the concoction is bubbling and the water changes from translucent to a pale yellow. Using a pair of tongs Wilson takes it off the heat and sets it aside to cool. Willow pulls a face as he cuts off the fuel supply to the Bunsen, killing the small flame. He only gives a smirk in response, making her frown further. “Could you pass me the object wrapped in the cloth on that table?” 

Since when did she become his assistant? Walking over she unravels the object; within is a shiny lump, some kind of metal obviously. It looked like silver, what was silver doing wrapped up in a cloth? Taking it in her hands, she examines it further. It was incredibly shiny, maybe she could use this as a mirror? “Miss Willow. Over here please.” With a heavy eye-roll she heads over to the vamp, holding the materiel out. “Just put it in that dish.” A ceramic bowl lay in front of him, the metal landing within with a soft clink. The metal had warped in her hands, becoming lopsided. She could see Wilson’s face overcome with curiosity as he hesitantly picked it up. 

It didn’t hurt, at least not at first. The longer he helped it, the more it stung. This metal was silver, or at least part silver, no doubt about that. But what gave it this flexible property? The irritation became painful, so he hands it back to Willow. “Do whatever you did to warp it again.” 

Again? Taking the metal in her hands again she frowns. What did she do to bend it? Why didn’t he just do it? Trying to bend the materiel again causes it to break in half. Willow looks up at Wilson with wide eyes. Was he going to scold her? Maybe something worse? He just stares, a perplexed expression on his face. It was actually kind of nice to see him stunned, the cocky air he usually carried was absent. If it weren’t for the whole prey thing, maybe she’d even find him attractive. Just as her thoughts begin to wander the weight in one of her hands shifts, something shiny falling to the ground. Startled, Willow takes a step back and looks at her hand. The metal had... melted? Yes, it had melted. In her hand. “Fascinating.” Suddenly Wilson grabs her wrist and holds her hand to his face, eyes looking for something. (What he thought he’d find exactly was a mystery.) She can see him stick out his tongue a little, his eyes becoming more and more intense. He must be thinking, but what about? The metal obviously, but why was it a big deal? Willow realises how hard she's staring at him when his golden eyes look up and meet hers, the intensity unwavering. “Put that on the table and drink.” Mind faltering for a moment she stares, kicking back into gear and getting a chuckle from the vamp. Putting the weird metal on the wooden surface, she picks up the liquid he brewed earlier. What the hell was this? For all she knew it was to drug her... Then again she had been out for hours after passing out... He didn’t do anything? Right? 

 

Wilson was incredibly impatient, he needed to get to the study and browse the volumes. Willow just frowned at the drink so he decided she needed encouragement. “It’s willow bark extract. To help with the pain.” Taking one of her hands in his own he guides the drink to his lips and takes a small sip before pushing it towards her own. “See? Safe.” Her cheeks flush the smallest bit before she sighs heavily and downs the liquid. Now they could finally go to the study! 

Still holding onto her hand, he takes them out of the room and down the halls. Before Willow can even guess where they were going, they had already arrived. It was the room from the other night, where she threw a log at him... Once in the room, he let her hand go and went straight for the bookshelf, skimming over the spines. 

Books weren’t really Willow’s thing, but they burned well. She wasn’t sure her captor would tolerate her burning his collection though. Crossing her arms over her chest she looks around the room. Something displayed inside a cabinet in the corner caught her eye. It was a blade of some sort, it looked broken. Glancing over her shoulder, it seemed Wilson was still preoccupied. With her heart pounding in her chest she takes the blade from its cradle. A weapon, something to defend herself. But what now?! Should she attack while his back was turned?! 

“This is the one!” Startled by the vamp, Willow slips the blade into her garter, hoping it would stay concealed under her skirt. Without looking up from the pages, Wilson makes his way over to her “We need to match a mineral with a low melting point from this book.” Willow gives a nod, doing her best to feign interest. He either didn’t notice her insincerity or didn’t care, instead he takes her hand and pulls her to sit in his lap within an armchair. She could feel every thump of her heart within her rib cage. She prayed that he didn’t find the blade pressed against her thigh.  

 

Wilson could feel her pulse quicken, so he takes one of Willow’s pigtails within his hand and plays with it. “Look.” He then brings the book up, pages splayed for her to see. “We can perform a few tests to ensure we find the correct material. Turning his attention to the mortal, he notices her expression seemingly more alarmed than usual. Perhaps the hand in her hair was unsettling her. Moving his hand however, prompted her to jump and grab his wrist, bringing it back to her hair. The heir was pleasantly surprised at this. Perhaps she was finally coming around, seeing he meant her no harm. “Maybe you would like to assist me?” She shook her head. “Why not?” 

“Tired.” Her voice was still weak, but not as hoarse as before. The elixir must have started to kick in, numbing the pain somewhat. Regardless, he needed to get the mortal to adapt to a nocturnal circadian rhythm. 

“I would like you to stay up a little, so eventually we sleep at the same time.” Willow cursed the vamp internally, of course he wouldn’t let her have the day to herself. “Let’s get you something to eat, perhaps that will raise your spirits.” 

~~~~~ 

Wilson watched her like a hawk as she ate, frankly ruining her appetite. At least breathing didn’t hurt anymore; whatever was in that drink actually helped. Her meal was some kind of stew, warm and pleasing in the cold weather. Tones of ginger and garlic were within the meaty broth; as to the meat, she prayed it was beef or pork. “What is this exactly?” 

“I’m not entirely sure, our chef Warly made it, not me. I assume it’s local game, most likely boar.” 

“Better be…” 

“I know you’re untrusting of me, but I would never do something underhanded like feed you something human without your knowledge. We only need blood. The flesh is what the ghouls would eat, so I would have to save some specially.” Wilson couldn’t help but smile at her expression; her shock was just so innocent and pure. 

“I would never!” The mortal’s voice cracked, pain flickering through her expression momentarily. With a chuckle, he leans on the table, resting his head in a splayed palm.  

“Speaking of meals, I would like to discuss my own if that’s alright with you.” The prince’s own hunger was beginning to tug at his thoughts. Thankfully he wasn’t doing anything strenuous, so feeding was minimal; that being said, it had been a day since his last drink and a week since his last  _fresh_  meal. “I can allow you another day, but not longer than that. I need to sate my hunger miss Willow.” 

“Don’t you have more  _wine_  from the Gala?” 

“Do you know how long blood keeps when kept cold Miss Willow?” Taking her silence as a no, he leans forward and places a soft kiss on her shoulder. “It only lasts for about a month, a week longer if it’s stored correctly. The longer it is stored, the lower the quality. Most of our stock went into the Gala, the good stock anyway. What’s left won’t last long and Maxwell needs it presently.” 

“So you can? You just won’t?” 

“We don’t need to feed every day to survive, but regular feedings keep us from tearing people apart. A starving vampire can drink upwards of three-thousand milliliters of blood, which is more than a fatal amount for you mortals. The more regular the feeds, the less that needs to be consumed. A single cup of fresh blood can last a week if not partaking in any activities. This can be replaced in about a week. Thus, a single vampire can live off of a single adult human for months if managed properly. Of course, this can cause iron deficiencies in th-” 

“Shut up, I get it. You like your livestock fresh.” 

“It  **needs** to be for the benefit of mankind. You’re also not livestock. People aren’t exactly eager to provide donations however, which made hunting a necessity.” 

“I’d rather donate than be stuck here.” 

“Donations don’t get you free meals and housing.” 

“I didn’t ask for those things.” 

“You seem to forget the laws of the land. If I hadn’t picked you for myself then you may have been drained dry by now. Perhaps your village would have been attacked by a ravenous vampire or bandits. You’re under my protection here.” 

“I never asked for your prote-” Her voice cuts off, a hand going to her throat and a pained expression on her face. 

Fuck it hurt if she strained her voice… “I’ll make you another elixir for later, a stronger one.” She just wanted to leave... The body of the blade presses against her thigh, she could use it now. He was so close, leaning over her shoulder. Slip it out and try to stab him while he was distracted. She could get him closer still… a sure-fire shot.  

“Sorry for shouting…” 

“Think nothing of it miss Willow. I understand this situation is less than ideal, but I really want your stay to be as comfortable as possible” 

“Why don’t you just hypnotise me?” Wilson let out another chuckle, leaning back into his own chair. 

“I told you, it’s merely a myth. Much like the herb in that stew supposedly repelling us.” It took a moment to click in Willow’s mind but then she realised he was talking about garlic. That’s right, wasn’t it supposed to be poisonous or something? 

“Prove it.” 

“Prove what?” 

“Prove it’s a myth. Go take a bite out of some garlic.” 

“You realise that I’m a haemovore, right? I can’t digest anything that isn’t blood.” 

“Maybe you’re just a coward.”  

“Is that right?” 

“Yup.” Wilson gave a smirk, shaking his head. Perhaps he should entertain her, show her he was more than open to a good-natured bet. 

“Alright, but only if I can steal a kiss~” She frowns at him, prompting another laugh. “Not even on the cheek?” With a heavy sigh she mutters something incoherent under her breath. 

“Fine. But you go first!” 

“Monsieur Warly! Bring me a clove of garlic!” There were a few moments of silence before (who Willow supposed this Warly character was) emerged from the kitchen. They seemed normal enough. No obviously vampiric traits. There wasn’t much to give away anything about them, save for the darkened tones of their skin. 

“Dare I ask what for?” Wilson sits up in his chair as Warly approaches, arm outstretched, ready for the herb.  

“This young lady and I are making a trade.” Warly places the cloves into Wilson’s hand, cocking an eyebrow at such a weird trade request.  

“Might I ask the terms?” 

“I must disprove a myth and as such she will allow me a kiss.” 

“Mon dieu. I sorely hope you brush your teeth before you do so.” Wilson lets out a laugh and gives the chef a feign frown.  

“Warly, you know my personal hygiene is impeccable! I ought to flay you for such rudeness!” 

“I beg your forgiveness  _master_.” The pair of them chuckle. Did Willow miss something? What was so funny? Wilson must have noticed her face because he gives a small smile and gestures to the darker man.  

“This is our chef. A very talented mortal, he provides meals for any other mortals in the manor and assists with the blood supplies.” So, he was a prisoner too? 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss. I assume this one will be staying for a while.” Warly doesn’t miss the thousand-yard stare in the heir’s eyes, he liked this one.  

“I hope so.” Meanwhile Willow can only think all of the people that must have come before her. How many people did Warly see come and go? Why didn’t he leave? Was he hypnotised? “Thank you for your service. You can head off of you like.” 

“Merci. I’ve left prepared meals in the icebox, hopefully they’re too your liking. Wilson’s shadow will get them at your request. I shall see you in a few days, hopefully we can get better acquainted madame. Au revoiur.” It wasn’t until Warly left the room that thoughts began to make sense again.  

“Why does he get to go?!” 

“We struck a deal a decade ago. He’s honoured it and donates to our stocks, as well as assisting when needed.” 

“I want to make a deal then!” Willow’s heart sinks as he shakes his head. “Why not?” 

“Different circumstances.” 

“I want to be able to come and go!” 

“Willow my dear, you’re just going to go. Build a level of trust first, then I might be more open to a casual arrangement.” He made it sound like this is was something she had a say in. He had made it more than clear that she did NOT have a say! She would be dead before she left the grounds. She needed to take her chances with the blade, wait for a sure-fire kill. Wilson interrupts the silence by speaking up again. “Anyhow. Our little bet.” Using one of his nails he takes a notch out of one of the garlic cloves, laying it on his tongue. Willow just lets out a huff, resting her head in a splayed hand being propped up by her elbow.  

“That doesn’t prove shit.” The heir rolls his eyes and leans over Willow’s shoulder.  

“What do you mean it doesn’t prove anything? I’ve not keeled over, hence myth busted.” 

“You hardly ate anything.” 

“I can’t digest it. If I eat a mouthful, I’ll be sick. If I’m sick, I’ll be hungrier later.” 

“If it makes you sick, then it  _is_  a poison!” 

“Do you eat grass? Leaves? No? If you regurgitate because you ate a handful of grass, does that make it poison?” Taking her silence as an answer, Wilson tips her face around so his eyes peer into hers. “The myth is disproven. Don’t get pouty just because it didn’t kill me.” Willow’s eyes avoid his own sardonic ones. Bringing his chair to the side of hers and snapping his fingers, the form of Mr. Skitz darts into the room. “Prepare the guest bedroom please. Miss Willow would you prefer the fireplace to be on or out?”  

“On…” 

“You heard her. Dismissed.” Using his nails, he combs through Willow’s pigtails. “You finish your meal and then we shall go to the guest room to discuss my own. No ifs or buts.” It wasn’t hard to tell she was dreading this, the moment she’d been trying to avoid. But it was inevitable and he was determined to make it as painless as possible to gain her compliance.  

All Willow could think about was how her blood would be spilled if she didn’t spill his first.  

So, she stalled. 

Took her time to eat, her appetite was gone anyway.  

Yet he sat, waiting, still combing his nails through her hair.  

 

As they walked back through the halls, the blade of the knife pressed against her thigh was screaming at Willow. The longer she waited to strike, the more likely it was for the weapon to be discovered. But… she just couldn’t find the right opening. The dread of a missed opportunity hung over her, causing her to not realise Wilson was talking to her.  “This is your room from here on. It’s spacious and I can get you any commodities you might need. I’m afraid the bathroom is lacking. I didn’t want another incident so I picked a room without a full en-suite.” Even with the fire crackling behind a wrought guard, the room felt cold. “Take a seat please miss Willow.” A splayed hand guides her to a seat and confirms her fears. It was too late. She missed her chance. “The veins I’ll drink from are located on the insides of your limbs and the jugular veins. Jugular is much faster, if you want this over and done with quickly.” 

Wilson stands before her, waiting for a response. She seems distracted, very distracted. “Willow?” Her eyes finally dart up to meet his. “Are you listening now?” 

“Yes, sorry.” Her voice was beginning to sound meek again, had the pain medication worn off already? 

“Where may I bite you Miss Willow?” Those amber eyes of hers move again, looking at nothing in particular. If she didn’t decide he would have to for her. Moving closer the heir places a hand on her shoulder, pulling down the red collar of her shirt to expose her neck. “This will be the fastest way to feed. I promise it won’t be as bad as you think.” She gives a nod, refusing to bring her gaze back to his. Taking this as confirmation the vamp finally digs his fangs into her, he can feel her heart rate double as she winces, the blood pooling from the pricks and into his mouth. He must have underestimated how hungry he was because it caused something to buzz in the back of his skull and pound in his chest. No, it caused a stabbing pain in his chest.  _A burning pain._ This wasn’t right. Pulling away Wilson finds Willow’s hands latched onto something, something gleaming. Her eyes are wide and full of fear. Then she pulls on the object, a silver blade emerging from what Wilson now realised was a wound. Did she... did she stab him? 

 

Willow waited until she knew he wouldn’t move, until she was sure she wouldn’t miss. The blade slid from her garter and swung up as hard as her arms would let her. It seemed to take a second for the vampire to realise. There was disbelief in his eyes, confusion and betrayal. (Could a beast like that even really feel betrayed after all he would have done to others?) However, her strike didn’t seem to be enough to kill him so she pulled it out and lunged again, this time his hand shot up and grabbed her wrist before it made contact. The other hand covered the wound on his chest, his claws visibly digging into the fabric of his shirt. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Pure fear pulsed through her system. His grip tightens as she pulls against him. “M-miss Willow. After everything. Are you really that afraid of me?” 

   
Wilson couldn’t believe it. No mortal had harmed him in decades, no, centuries. Had his hospitality not been comforting in the slightest? He saved her. He fed her. Clothed her. He could have torn her apart like the animal the humans thought they were. Was he really that intimidating? That untrustworthy? She brings a leg up and kicks him in the gut, making him stumble and drop her.  

For a moment she felt like she could run, he dropped her and she still had the blade. Before she could leave the room, something grabs her waist. Instinctually she swings the blade at it, but again her wrist is caught and her other arm seized. Shit. Shit. Shit. Willow could feel tears begin to well in her eyes. She failed; it didn’t kill him. This was it. At least it would be over soon, but she wouldn’t go down without leaving something to remember her by. 

Wilson had used his wings to grab her waist and bring her back to him, his priority was to disarm her. As furious as he should have been, he just wasn’t. People and animals lashed out when they were scared, they couldn’t help it. The woman had moxie to say the least. Facing your fears was the best way to get over them, although he would prefer her to be unafraid of his presence while he was still alive. Now he wasn’t sure if the buzzing in the back of his skull was from the loss of his blood or the taste of hers.   
Perhaps a quick experiment was in order, before the blood dripping down her neck clotted. If she quit squirming that was... Willow tried her best to get out of his grip, but he was stronger. He dragged her back into the room, using his wings to hold her as he pulled a box out from under the bed. A medical kit, so he could dress her wounds once he was done. However, now he would be repurposing some of the equipment. A tourniquet would be used to keep those... busy hands of hers bound while he dressed his own wound.    
 

Thoughts thunder through her mind as the beast stalls. His sharp fingers pry the blade from her hands and bound them behind her back. Why hadn’t he already just killed her? Was he going to torture her? Scowling, the fire-starter finally gets away from his grip. He sits on the side of the bed and takes off his attire. As he finally gets to bare skin, she can see the damage before he wraps a bandage around it. A thick mahogany substance oozes from the knife-wound, like dull molten iron. “Next time you need to kill a vampire... aim to the left of their chest.” His breathing sounded shallower, maybe she did more damage than she thought, maybe she still had a chance. “Have you got it all out... out of your system?” Definitely more damage than she originally thought. Swiftly she backs into the door and does her best to turn the knob, but the ropes around her wrists dig in painfully as she twists it. He’s on her again in the blink of an eye, leaning over her, pupils constricted, thin slits of black in pools of medallion yellow. “Please… just sit.” He leaves her room to pass. The moron left the knife on the bedside table! Making b-line for it, a weight shifts her trajectory and makes her face-plant into the bed instead. “How are you going to pick it up?” His weight holds her down, leaning over and hovering at her neck. “Think before you do.” She can feel his body lined up with hers, the sinking of the mattress, her hands brushing the fabric of his bandage. 

She pissed him off and was going to pay for it... 

 

Her heart was still pounding in her chest. She was still squirming to escape him. She needed to stop doing that... this position wasn’t the most savoury to be wiggling around in when his mind was leaning more towards impulsive action rather than thought. Holding her hips, Wilson runs his tongue over her neck once again. The mortal’s blood was just as sweet the second time around, despite starting to clot. A whine escapes her, a desperate sound begging for mercy. Why couldn’t the woman just understand that he just wanted to feed, that the whole process could have been quick and relatively painless. _Her taste would be something to be_ _celebrated_ _and savoured_ _after-all_ _._ _A bottle of it would be nice, something to sip over a book or while researching_ _._   **No** , he couldn’t get carried away. Just enough to survive, that’s all he needed.  One  last mouthful, then he pulls away, tongue dancing over stained lips. The heir’s mind already felt clearer... Perhaps it was merely hunger causing his ravenous thoughts.   _Although_ _the taste of her blood was something he wishes he could indulge more on_ _._  

 

His teeth skim her neck, painfully threatening to cause more than just a puncture wound. Suddenly it stops, the pressure lifted. What was he doing now? Putting her in her place? Mind racked with vulnerable possibilities, she tries to stand, only to be pushed back down. 

Now the inside and outside of her throat hurt... bite marks and drowning... What else was the bastard going to add to her list? 

“J-just hurry up!” If he was going to violate her, (torture or otherwise) she just wanted it over and done with. Something is pressed against her neck, causing her to flinch. Then she feels a weight shift on the bed in front of her, causing the mattress to sink. Looking up she finds Wilson laying on the bed, her knife in his hands. He merely glances at her and gives a small smile. 

“I told you. Immortal, not immoral.” A high-pitched whistle escapes the vamp’s lips and Mr Skitz appears beside his master. “Confiscate this please.” The creature almost looks worried. “Now.” Willow takes a few steps away from the bed, watching as the shadow creature leaves. 

“W-what are you doing?” 

“I don’t know about you Miss Willow… but this debacle has made me rather exhausted. I might have a rest. It seems at this rate… I’ll change to your body clock rather than you to mine.” Was he fucking with her? All that and he’s going to sleep?! 

“U-untie me!” 

“You get up to too much trouble when your hands are untied. You said you were tired anyway.” 

“I said untie me.” 

“In the morning, so you can use them during the day.” 

“No, you’re going to take advantage of me!” 

“I could have just then. Has it occurred to you, that I truly mean you no harm? That perhaps the dogma about us has clouded your mind? I mean, you believe the myths of garlic and hypnotism after all.” He sorta had a point... Most of what she knew wasn’t true... At least most of what she thought wasn’t true about him from what she’d seen. That woman from before was a monster, she tore out a heart in front of her, but he’d been gentle and quiet. (If not a bit provocative). That didn’t mean she trusted him though. 

“L-leave me alone then.” 

“I meant what I said about being here. You’re safe, you’re fed, you’re not forced to sleep with the mayor’s son to be forgiven for a crime you didn’t commit.” 

 

Wilson could see her freeze at those words. Various emotions flicking through her eyes.  

“Please let me go. I’m moving to the city, away from the village. 

“No.” Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he heads to the door. “Rest. Your throat is still injured.” Before Willow could rebut, the door closes behind him and locks with a soft click.    
Keeping her here was the right thing. Not only that, it was the law. She was safer here. Once she settled in, she would enjoy it. Right? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on uploading new chapters ASAP, exams are coming up though so it may be another two weeks or so.


	7. The Hunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays everyone!!!
> 
> I hope your Christmas period was full of family and good feeling. If not, I send you my good feelings. <3 <3 <3
> 
> Sorry it's taken me a while to update, been very busy over the holidays!

* * *

Hours passed before Willow pulled herself off the floor, maybe she’d fallen asleep from the exhaustion. Her throat hurt, her neck hurt and her wrists hurt. The only place she found solace was in the crackling of the fireplace. She watched as the flames twisted and writhed, dancing like spirits upon the logs. The iron fence between her and her flames came down with a firm kick, allowing her to get close enough to see the glowing embers change colour with her breath.

Really, she had expected a lot worse after she stabbed the vampire. Although maybe being alive was the punishment. Her hands behind her back, like a lamb for slaughter.

There was one option left. Set the place on fire. Hopefully at least she’d die on her own terms if it came to that. Besides, she did seem to injure the vamp. Maybe her getaway would actually work while he was weakened.

The ropes. Ropes were made of grass and stuff. They burned, right? Could she burn them off? If not, she was dead anyway. Hesitantly Willow lowers her hands into the fire pit, the heat already searing her hands. She couldn’t do this. Fire left burns. Burns hurt. Although, she’d never gotten one herself, she had seen others get them. The skin would blister, bubbling everywhere the fire went. Not to mention, if you didn’t take care of the wound then you would get infected and die. Really, not the ideal death. Taking a deep breath she pushed on, the pain shooting up her arms. That is until she realised it didn’t actually hurt.

The flames she’d been taught to bring so much pain barely felt more than hot air. Had the pain before being in her head? Snapping with a hiss of flame, the rope loosens and Willow examines her hands. They were red and hot, but that’s it. Just. Red and hot. Would the pain come later? How long until the blisters came?

Right now it didn’t matter!

Grabbing one of burning logs she throws it onto the bed, silken vermillion bursting into flames. Trying the door, Willow finds it’s locked. Not for long. What could she use to break the door handle? Beside the fire sat a spade to shovel ashes. That would do. Plunging the tip into the hinges of the door, Willow manages to pry the bolts out and bring the door falling forward.

Wilson was right, her hands were busy.

Hurling more of the flaming bits and pieces from the fireplace, Willow manages to feed the flames until they could support themselves out the door and into the hallway. Now if that didn’t burn this stinking place to the ground, then nothing would. Cautiously the woman makes her way downstairs. Without the light of day it was much scarier, every shadow threatening to hold something sinister. Ducking in and out of rooms, she made her way closer and closer to the outside. The scent of smoke was beginning to make its way through the halls, she didn’t have much longer before the search for her began.

 

The fire-starter ran, tripping over a few bumps in the lawn due to the darkness. A wonderful blaze consumes the manor, flames engulfing one corner of the house hungrily. The sounds of frenzied ghouls taking to the skies echoes through the night. One of them brushes past her as she sprints across the courtyard. So close. Just a little further!

The grate of the drain was overgrown with ivy and needed a lot of convincing to budge. It was only just big enough for her to crawl through. Damp, slimy and with a weird odour. Just great. Something thick and wet sticks to her knee as she pulls herself through the tunnel. Wonderful. So lovely. Pain shoots up her leg as something digs into her ankle. With a hoarse cry she kicks as hard as she can, a snarl from one of those monsters behind her. It was too big to get into the pipe, but it gave it a bloody good shot. Clawing and snapping at her from outside. Shivers ran down her spine as it’s claws scrapped against the metal tube.

At the other end of the tunnel was another grate, this one was rusted so badly the bars came out with a little jimmying. With her heart pounding in her ears, for what must have been the tenth time tonight, she ran. 

~~~~~

After his confrontation with the mortal, Wilson retired to his bedroom. The wound barely missed his heart, a close call to say the least. Suturing the wound shut, he runs his nails over the flesh. It would heal easily enough, as long as he didn’t get stabbed by the fiery maiden again. When did she even get the blade? He’d been by her side the whole night, had she hidden it all day?

Letting out a heavy sigh he lays back and rests his eyes. After a short rest he would go get that book he found in the study and see if he could find the metal used to give the silver pins their malleability.

 

As the heir flicks through the pages of the encyclopaedia a strange scent reaches his nose, something… smokey. Was something burning? Panic fills Wilson and he charges through the halls. It doesn’t take long for him to run into the source of the scent. Fire had swallowed the top floor of the manor, it’s flames licking the walls and stripping the paint.

“Miss Willow?!” Her room was in that direction. Dread began creeping into his mind. “MR SKITZ!” The small snake-like creature forms beside his master and lets out a hiss. “Rally the ghouls immediately! We need buckets and water, as much as they can carry! Hurry!” The subservient creature vanishes and Wilson turns to the blaze. “MISS WILLOW?!” He only hoped she had used her wits and managed to escape. Wrapping his wings around himself he charges head first into the flames, stumbling over cracking planks of wood. The floor of Willow’s room was completely gone, glowing embers in its place. Bleary eyed he does his best to find a sign of her, a body, anything. The heat of the flames was getting to him, pain seeping through his flesh. “WILLOW?! SAY SOMETHING!” Running back into the hall the heir charges through an open window and out into the air. Every flap of his wings brought pain, but what was important was that he was out of the blaze. He couldn’t find any sign of Willow, she must have gotten out. She had to. He locked her in there. It would be his fault. Was she somewhere in the manor? He needed to find her.

 

A once peaceful night sky became chaos, half a dozen ghouls taking off into the sky at once. The swarm flew to the nearby river, filling large wooden tubs with water for the fire. Wilson lands back down, wincing as his wings fold to rest. Mr Skitz appears by his master and gestures to the sky. “Good work. Now search every nook and cranny of the manor. Find Willow. Please!” Disappearing once again, the creature goes to fulfil his master’s bidding. The fire protests, hissing as water lands onto its coals. Wilson shields his eyes as a plume of smoke is blown his way. One of the ghouls shrieks and dives from the sky, likely chasing a stray animal on the property. Those morons couldn’t stay on task for five damn minutes! Spreading his wings once again, he goes to scold the creature. “Focus on the fire you fool!” Giving the beast a firm hit, it cowers and takes to the skies again. What was it even chasing? Looking into the grate he can see a form going through, it smelt of smoke… could it be? He was too large to fit into the grate himself, so he’d go over.

~~~~~

The fire-starter didn’t get far before having to stop. The sound of hooves came from nowhere and were on top of her in an instant. Willow freezes as the rider halts in front of her, a long javelin aimed toward her, its surface shining in the moonlight. Their eyes lock, the stranger trying to read Willow’s face.

“Catch.” The woman throws an object to Willow, who fumbles to catch it, but clutches it tightly against her chest once she has her grip. Another few moments pass before the woman asks for it back; not wanting to provoke the stranger Willow hands it back. As she does so the woman grabs her hands and inspects them. “Did you come from the manor?” She points her weapon to the wall behind her.

“Y-yeah.”

“And the fire?”

“U-uh.” Willow had no idea who this was or what they wanted. For all she knew they were another vampire, maybe something worse. Before she can figure out who this woman was, her horse whinnies and rears up. The stranger’s eyes go straight to the sky. She picks something up from around her neck and puts it to her mouth, an ear-piercing whistle sounding through the night. A force impacts the woman, dropping from the sky like a bird of prey. Their pair tumble from the horse, getting back to their feet a few steps apart from one another. It was Wilson. Willow can feel dread creeping back into her, yet the woman in front of her stares down the vamp, stoic as ever. The fire-starter can see Wilson’s eyes flicker to meet her own, then back to the woman. More horses emerge from the darkness, all with riders clad in similar armour to the stranger.

“Think you can take on all of us beast?” Wilson’s eyes glance towards the new comers, for once he actually seemed to be worried. Which he was; Willow had injured him, he wouldn’t stand a chance against four hunters right now. “This woman is under our protection now and you shant leave here alive.” Her prayers had been answered, these people were slayers, vampire slayers. It made sense now. The object thrown to her must have been silver, her weapon made out of the same precious metal. They were making sure she wasn’t one of them. Tears begin to well in Willow’s eyes, relief flooding her body.

“I assume it was you who set my home alight then.”

“May-haps. Hardly matters now. Walani come take this poor woman back to town.”

“Got it.”A fifth rider comes from behind the stranger and offers a hand to Willow. She eagerly takes it and is hoisted onto the back of the horse, gripping Walani tightly.

“Unhand her. She lives with me.”

“You vampires are always so possessive. She’s a person, not a plaything.” In the next moment everything happens at once. Wilson moves and so do all the armour clad warriors. Walani throws something and then they launch into a gallop. The sound of metal clashing together echoes as they leave. All she can do is stare as the battle gets further and further away. Wilson’s form shoots into the air, only to have something shiny fired at him. A cry reaches Willow’s ears and he moves back towards the wall, a few of the pale monsters abandoning their fire-duty to be by his side. Willow turns back to the rider, arms tightly around her waist.

“Th-thanks.” Her voice is horse but manageable.

“Don’t thank us yet. It’s not over until Wigfrid brings back it’s head.”

“Who is that?”

“The woman that saved you.” The rider turns back to Willow with a smile, their navy robe billowing as air rushes past. However, their smile drops and they take a bow from their hip. Pulling an arrow from a quiver on her back, Walani draws the bow and lets the arrow fly. Willow fears Wilson is in tow but turns to see a ghoul instead, still better than the vampire. It hits the creature in the face, lodging in its cheek. The monster seemed unfazed yet Walani decides that’s enough and goes back to encouraging the horse. The ghoul lands, ceasing it’s chase and looking around like a crazed animal.

“What did you do?”

“Those monsters aren’t hard to distract. They love a meal more than anything. So I use laced arrows.” She points to her quiver, the bag is separated into little pockets, each holding arrows tipped with different coloured feathers. “Scent lures are effective for one or two of them. Enough time to escape. Vampires aren’t fooled as easily. Do me a favour and keep an eye out for more of the suckers.” Willow gives a nod and turns her head to the sky. There were a few shapes in the air, giving off shrieks.

“There’s a few of them coming.”

“Shit.” Walani glances up and cusses again. “Alright. You’re going to jump off the horse in a second and I’ll lure them away.”

“Jump?”

“You’ll be okay. Just stay low to the ground and hidden for a minute. Then follow the river with the moon behind you.”

“I’m going to break something!”

“Trust me.” Walani gives a smile that makes Willow’s nerves a little better. She seemed sure. Walani pulls back on the reigns, the horse grinding to a halt. It rears up with a whiny and Willow is shoved backward, falling from the horse’s back. The fall is cut short as she lands in a bush, its branches sticking into her everywhere. Ouch… at least it was better than rocks. Walani’s horse starts galloping in another direction, a bright light coming from them as they bolt through the darkness. The figures above turn, following the horse and rider as they leave Willow behind. She waits, as instructed, before heaving herself out of the greenery. Follow the river with the moon behind you. Follow the river with the moon behind you... She had this.

 

A crossbow bolt narrowly misses his head, while a pike lodges in his thigh. Crying out, Wilson dives for the cover of the estate wall. By this point some of the ghouls had taken an interest in the commotion and were coming to the heir’s aid. Hunters, at his front door, it was unheard of. If he hadn’t just taken a silver blade to the torso, he would have shred them to ribbons by now. 

**_Chink_ **

A large metal hook lands right next to Wilson’s face. He peers over the wall only to have another bolt whizz past his ear. This was the ghoul’s problem now. Wilson pulls the pike out with a grunt and drops from the wall, allowing his form to shrink. The once full-sized vampire was now no bigger than a cat, fur covering flesh and cloth. The bat was the stealthiest method of escape he could think of. He flies back up, using the ghouls to cover his accent. Once happy with the height, he scans for Willow. A bright light cuts through the darkness in the distance, that was the one that took Willow. Ghouls were chasing them, yet the hunter made no effort to repel them. In fact, he’d even say she was baiting them, she had to be. These hunters seemed professional and good at their job, evident by the fact they could afford silver weapons and most likely armour. For one of them to be riding off with a bright light and not fire a single shot? That was something he would steer clear of. With that in mind, where was Willow? They wouldn’t endanger her by bringing her on a bait-trip. They must have hidden her, left her somewhere. But where?

 

Circling the area, Wilson eventually finds his target. His body ached with every flap, if he had only found her earlier, he might have been able to bring her home. She seemed tired as well, breath heavy and pace slowing. The maiden ducks into a barn, property of one of the farmers that littered the outskirts of towns no doubt. He wanted nothing more than to return to normal and embrace her. However… returning to full form here, injured and alone? Reckless. So, he stays small, fluttering through the window on the upper floor of the barn. He lands with a thud, prompting movement from below. He needed a rest… hopefully she wouldn’t go anywhere if he closed his eyes for a moment.


End file.
